


Fatalistic Daydream

by Engineer104



Series: Fatalistic Daydream [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Barely tbh, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Pidge Big Bang 2018, sort of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-27 22:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14435490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Being a low-ranking Galra soldier stationed in a virtual backwater isn’t stopping Pidge from finding out what happened to her family. But the secrets she’s keeping from her friend Keith on top of the unwanted attention of an Altean prisoner-of-war are definitely...slowing her down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY I've been working on this fic for a while and now people get to see it even after i've spent the last week finishing it and picking over it with my awesome beta [hailqiqi](https://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Also with art by [anonabelle](https://anonabelle.tumblr.com/) and [anaake](http://anaake-art.tumblr.com/). They drew some amazing pieces (included and linked at the end of the fic), and all their art is great and worth checking out <3
> 
> Thank you to the mods of the [Pidge Big Bang](https://pidgebigbang.tumblr.com/) for setting up the event and allowing me to participate basically last-minute!!
> 
> And now, without further ado...enjoy!!

Corporal Pidge Gunderson scanned the prison yard below, a rifle balanced on her shoulder. She was technically off-duty, but her commanding officers were more than happy accepting work without the obligation of paying her for it.

It hopefully meant they wouldn’t tell her off for reading while in full view of the whole prison compound.

Pidge took the steps down to the yard, scanning her ID to open the gate and venturing out into it. The prisoners of war, mostly Altean men, were outside stretching their legs, clustering in groups with Galra guards hovering to make sure no fights broke out and no escapes were planned, at least within earshot.

Soon though, during Pidge’s upcoming shift, the yard would be cleared, the prisoners returned to their cells, and a new batch would be brought in, captured from the latest engagement here on Arus. But for now she ventured around the yard, stretching her legs and scanning the prisoners’ identification tags.

Within the varga, the bell rang, and the guards on-duty corralled the prisoners back towards their cells. Pidge, still off-duty, lingered outside; she’d have to return inside to clock in soon, but before that her eyes drifted up to the blue sky, where there wasn’t a cloud or even a stream of engine exhaust or trail of rocket boosters in sight.

With a sigh, Pidge spun on her heel and retreated inside to begin her shift.

* * *

 While the blast of the prisoner transport’s rockets filled the air with an explosion of sound, the new batch of prisoners lined up in the yard for the warden to take account of them. His adjutant followed with a tablet, recording the new prisoners’ names and company information. Of course, there was the possibility that they lied, but between what they shared now and what could be gleaned from possessions found on them – such as identification tags – the data could be reconciled.

No prisoners admitted to this camp ranked higher than sergeant though.

Pidge held tight to the rifle in her hand, alternating her gaze between the ground and scanning the prisoners’ faces. Most of them wore expressions of either defiance or despair – or something in between – but one _smirked_ , as if amused.

Pidge stared at him longer than was probably appropriate. He was Altean like most of them, with blue wedge-shaped markings on his dark face. They seemed to shine in the sunlight, more than any of the rest, but more captivating than _that_ was his smile.

 _Why?_ she wondered, frowning. He looked like someone laughing at his own private joke, one he was unwilling to share with the rest of the world. _What do you know that we don’t?_

A part of her feared for him – the part that didn’t care that he was technically her enemy – because a smirk like that could get him in trouble with his Galra guards if they suspected it hid some secret knowledge, whether of escape, ambush, or otherwise.

Most of the prisoners-of-war here would eventually be ransomed back to Altea or to their home planets, but some would remain, stuck because they weren’t valuable enough or because their families couldn’t afford to pay the price. Maybe this man would be one of the lucky ones; maybe that was why he smiled.

Pidge still clutched her rifle warily, keeping a closer eye on him than on any of his fellow prisoners. When the time came to escort them inside and to their assigned cells, she took charge of him personally – though he was bigger than her and would be able to overpower her if his wrists weren’t bound – and led him down the hall.

“So,” he drawled, jerking her out of her thoughts, “the name’s Lance. What’s yours?”

Pidge gritted her teeth and ignored him.

“Oh, not allowed to talk to me? That’s fine; I can speak for both of us!” She felt his eyes on her, sizing her up, checking to see how he could push her buttons. “Nice weather we’re having.”

Pidge only rolled her eyes.

“I mean, not as nice as back home, obviously.” His smile widened. “How’s the weather on Daibazaal anyway? I’ve always wondered.”

“Cold,” Pidge said, surprising herself.

His eyes widened, and for a moment he looked surprised too, at least until he said, “So you _do_ talk!”

Pidge prodded him with the barrel of her rifle, urging him to walk faster.

“Hey, I bet I can shoot more accurately than you,” said Lance, nodding at her rifle. “Maybe I can show you sometime? Have a little friendly competition?” He emphasized his question by rattling the cuffs binding his wrists together.

Pidge ignored him this time, but he continued to chatter about nothing in particular:  that he’d always heard prison food was terrible and what his best friend would have to say about it, that he was looking forward to meeting some new people, that he’d love some tips on escaping (delivered with a smirk and an eye roll), and that he wanted to figure out what made Galra tick.

“A heart,” Pidge quipped at that last one once they stopped outside his assigned cell. As he shot her another stunned look that she’d bothered to respond to him, she pressed her hand to the identification scanner outside his cell.

When the door slid open, she nodded him inside, careful to keep her rifle pointed at his back.

“What about these?” Lance asked, raising his hands.

“Once you’re locked inside they’ll fall off automatically,” Pidge explained. “Push them through the slot in the door once it’s closed.”

“Are you saying I won’t have to wear these anymore?” He smiled hopefully.

“Unless you give the warden a reason to want you cuffed.”

“Hey, I’ll be a _model_ prisoner,” Lance said. He backed away from the door, which slid shut, and after another few tics the slot slid open from the inside, a tan hand poking out to drop the cuffs on the floor in the hall.

“Thank you,” Pidge said, bending down to pick them up and hooking them in her belt.

“Huh, you’re more polite than I thought a Galra soldier would be,” Lance said, his face peeking out from the barred window in the sturdy steel door.

“So not polite at all,” she said, turning to leave and carry out the rest of her duties. There was no need for her to remain once the door had locked; the security cameras, the guards in the control room, and the occasional patrol by those posted at the ends of each hall were more than enough to keep an eye on the prisoners when they were in their cells.

Inside the control room, Pidge collapsed in an empty chair next to Keith. “Did you read the book?” she asked him.

Keith spun his chair around to regard her. “Yeah,” he said. “Do you want it back yet?”

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

“I’ll drop it on your bed when I’m off-duty,” he promised.

Pidge eyed him. “You barely look _on_ -duty.”

Keith ran his fingers through his hair, longer and smoother than any other Galra’s, and grumbled, “I’m bored.”

Pidge hummed, slumping deeper into her seat. “Who wouldn’t be?”

* * *

“So you’re awfully short for a Galra soldier,” Lance observed next time she was on-duty and patrolling the prison block of cells. She’d barely stepped past his when his voice brought her up short. “There’s got to be a story there, I’m sure.”

Pidge bit her lip and ignored him.

On her next circuit, he asked, “What’s your name anyway? I can’t read Galra so your tags aren’t legible to me.”

_Ignore him._

“I’d probably get beaten up for saying this,” Lance said the next time she passed, “but you’re kind of pretty for a Galra soldier, almost like a girl.”

Pidge flinched, tightening her grip on her rifle, and finally halted outside his cell. She approached the door, tilting her head back to look him in the eye – or attempt to anyway – and wondering, “Do you need something to do? Some kind of _entertainment_ other than work detail so you don’t needle me all the time?”

“Hmm.” Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “Maybe some conversation?”

“Talk to your comrades next time you’re allowed out,” Pidge told him.

“I do that, but alas. I not only get told off for chatting during _work detail_ , but I am also an insufferable extrovert.” He flashed her a smirk, leaning against his door and looking much too comfortable for a prisoner-of-war. “You know, you’re the first one to really _humor_ me, uh…Corporal?”

Pidge stiffened her shoulders. “Gunderson,” she told him.

“Corporal Gunderson.” He offered her a mocking two-fingered salute, a gesture that Pidge knew for a fact wasn’t the _official_ Altean salute. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“I can’t say likewise,” she responded, careful to keep her tone flat; her expression likely gave away her discomfort enough. She wasn’t supposed to be conversing so openly with an Altean soldier.

“That’s fine,” said Lance. “I’m pretty good at winning people over.” He smiled, something odd and promising in it.

Pidge rolled her eyes but made no reply. And the next few times she passed by his cell, he kept quiet; for some reason it made her palms itch, her blaster heavy in her hands. She could still hear him inside, alternating between pacing the small cell and humming tunes she didn’t recognize. He called out to some of the other guards on-duty too, but they managed to ignore him, even when his remarks teetered on the verge of insults.

_Almost like a girl._

Pidge didn’t relax again until the end of her shift. When she returned to her bunk, she stood in front of the tiny mirror hanging on the wall, trying to spot something on her pale purple face that would give her disguise away. She sported no trace of whiskers around her nose and had no excess hair on her pointed ears or fur on the sides of her face, not like a Galra man would, but she displayed no overt signs of femininity either.

Height, unfortunately, was universal among Galra, and her family’s genetics cursed her with short stature.

 _It’s the height,_ she told herself. _Altean women are shorter than men, so he must think Galra are the same._

Pidge pushed Lance’s words from her mind while she removed her armor. She saw that Keith had dropped off her father’s favorite book like he promised, and after changing into more comfortable civvies, she sat up in bed and flipped to the first page.

* * *

 Pidge’s commanding officer scolded her for reading on the job again.

“Next time I catch you with that damn book while on-duty,” Captain Mika warned with an aggressive finger prodding into her chest, “you’re earning a demerit, Gunderson.”

Pidge carefully marked her page and tucked the book under her arm before throwing up a half-hearted salute. “Understood, sir,” she said.

“Oh, and if I’m not mistaken,” Captain Mika continued, eyes glinting unpleasantly, “your next demerit gets you a demotion.”

Pidge bit her lip but nodded; she didn’t trust herself to speak.

Her commanding officer stalked away, leaving her standing alone in the prison yard while the prisoners milled around, socializing and exercising. Though she didn’t care much about the demotion itself, the further down the military ladder she fell, the less freedom she had, and the less freedom she had…

Pidge clenched her hand into a fist and wished she could’ve done _better_ while she still had the chance.

“Do you Galra _always_ look so angry?”

Pidge jumped, spinning around with her hand halfway to the rifle slung across her back, but when she saw it was Lance she pressed it against her chest instead, heart pounding beneath it. “Oh, it’s just you.”

“Hmm, _just_ me?” Lance’s eyes flitted from her hand to the blaster she didn’t carry. “Too easy.”

Pidge grabbed it, pointing it at him and scowling, but when his smile – his _default_ expression, it seemed – didn’t falter, despite his hands raising defensively and his cheek marks darkening, she lowered her blaster slightly. “What is?” she asked suspiciously, though she suspected she knew the answer.

Instead of replying, he raised an eyebrow and inquired, “You’ve never personally seen combat, have you, Corporal Gunderson?”

“And if I haven’t?” Pidge said cautiously.

Lance frowned and admitted, “Then you’re kind of out of your league here, aren’t you?” With that, he left her, waving to a fellow prisoner once his back was to her.

Pidge watched him go for a moment, then shook her head. Her palms were damp again, anxiety spiking for a reason she couldn’t explain. It didn’t seem fair to her that first her commanding officer should lecture her and then her _prisoner_ – if not really ‘hers’ – should talk down to her like _that_.

“Who do you think you are, Lance?” she grumbled. “And what makes you think you know anything about me?”

Pidge was careful not to catch his eye for the rest of her shift, but a part of her was disappointed he didn’t try to catch hers either.

* * *

“What are you reading, Gunderson? What language is that even in?”

Pidge glanced up from her book to see Yolen, another guard of rank equal to her, taking a seat across the table from her. Usually Keith would sit there, but he was currently on-duty and would eat later.

“Oh, it’s called _Balmeran Blues_ ,” she told him, pretending like she didn’t hear his second question. Her attention returned to her page, lips forming the words as she read them, but when Yolen interrupted her again she scowled in irritation.

“What’s it about?”

Pidge eyed him suspiciously, cradling the book protectively between her hands, half-worried he would try to snatch it away. Was he making fun of her for reading? Few of the guards at the prison bothered with leisure reading as a pursuit in their infrequent free time, and many of them even held it in disdain. During her first movement, one had even gone so far as to ask to borrow it, just to tear off the cover for no other reason than to mock her. Only their commander’s interference saved it from further damage after he decided that a book written in a foreign language was “harmless”.

Naturally, the other guard wasn’t punished, and she’d been left to lick her wounds and repair the cover in the loneliness of her bunk. The Galra generally disdained intellectualism since they prioritized strength, which was partly why Pidge was so eager to leave Daibazaal when she enlisted in the military.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t escape the culture itself so easily.

“It’s a murder mystery,” Pidge explained carefully to Yolen. “A Balmeran dies and it looks like a deadly mining accident, but the Galra main character thinks it’s deliberate.”

Yolen quirked an eyebrow. “Why would you want to read that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“It doesn’t sound very interesting,” he said. “Why would a Galra care why a Balmeran miner died? And aren’t there any fights?”

“There are,” Pidge argued, but then she brightened. Perhaps this was her chance to convince someone other than Keith, so she smiled and continued, “The plot is actually pretty formulaic, but the _themes_ —”

Corporal Yolen smiled, looking a little apologetic as he said, “Sorry, Gunderson, I failed literature classes in school.”

Frustrated, Pidge said, “School literature classes don’t let you think anyway!”

His eyes widened, and then he said, “Don’t let Captain Mika or the warden hear you talking like that, Gunderson.”

Pidge pinched her lips together, eyes drifting down to her plate in faked shame. “You’re right,” she said. Her heart pounded as she realized what she might’ve done; Keith might’ve been receptive to the book’s ideas, but he was just as odd and out of place as she was.

“Besides, I can’t read Altean anyway.” Yolen stood and left her without another word, but Pidge slipped the book underneath her leg, wary of attracting anymore attention to herself while she ate.

* * *

“No library here, huh?”

Pidge spun on her heel and stalked back to Lance’s cell at the prompt. She knew he was only trying to provoke her, whether out of boredom or genuine curiosity, but after talking to Corporal Yolen at lunch and her commanding officer’s last reprimand, her temper flared.

“What is your problem with me?” she demanded once she and Lance were – relatively – face to face.

“You’re joking,” Lance said, his eyebrow quirking. When she didn’t answer – only glared in what she hoped was a menacing fashion – he sighed and said, “You mean, besides the fact that you’re a prison guard and I’m a prisoner?”

Pidge’s breath stuttered in her chest, anger fading as quickly as it came on. “Besides…besides that,” she tried. “Why _me_ ? Why do you talk to – _needle_ – me?”

Lance shrugged, but then he explained, “You’re the only guard that says something other than ‘shut up’ to me, and frankly I’m getting sick of one-sided conversations, Corporal.”

Pidge met his eyes, saw he was smiling, something a little less sardonic than his smirk. “You’re bored,” she guessed.

“Guilty as charged,” Lance said, raising his hands. “Well, I suppose according to you Galra, I’m guilty of a few other things too.” His smile turned mocking.

Pidge decided she liked the _other_ smile better. “And if there _was_ a library, you would read?”

Lance frowned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “I never much liked reading, but I’m so bored I would try anything.” He leaned against the door, resting his arms right underneath the small barred window. “Got any recommendations for me, Corporal?”

Pidge crossed her arms. “The prison doesn’t have a library,” she told him.

“No?” Lance said. “Then where did you get that book you were reading in the yard yesterday?”

Pidge’s back stiffened, her hands tightening on her rifle reflexively. “It was my f—it’s mine. I brought it with me.”

“You’re allowed books? Huh.” Lance looked genuinely surprised at that, eyes widening slightly.

“We’re allowed entertainment that doesn’t interfere with our duties or spread anti-Empire sentiment,” Pidge recited by rote. “Or…pro-Altean propaganda.” She grimaced at that, well-aware to whom she spoke.

“Well, quiznak,” Lance said. “Wouldn’t want to think of us as something other than the enemy, right?”

Pidge bit her lip and averted her eyes. “No, I guess not.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, and Pidge wondered if he could sense something she didn’t – couldn’t, _wouldn’t_ – say. “You have a library hidden in your bunk then?” he wondered.

“I have…a few other books,” she admitted. Though she often neglected them in favor of rereading _Balmeran Blues_ , as the rest of her small collection – small enough her minders wouldn’t scrutinize it too closely – were all by Galra authors. “You might actually like the one you saw me reading.”

The words escaped her lips before she could think about them, and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I—”

“You think so, Corporal Gunderson?” Lance said, a corner of his mouth ticking up with a slight smile. “You think you know what sort of books I like?”

“No!” Pidge denied quickly. Why was her face warm suddenly? “I just…you have something in common with the author.”

“Oh yeah?”

Pidge nodded.

“Is he…devastatingly handsome too?” Lance ran his fingers through his hair and smirked, blue markings on his cheeks growing darker.

Pidge crossed her arms and scowled at him, heart pounding more rapidly than it should have been. “No.”

“Are you saying you think _I’m_ —”

“Not even implying it,” Pidge interrupted before he could get ahead of himself.

“Too bad,” Lance said. “I appreciate compliments.”

“Even from Galra guards?”

He smiled. “I could learn to take them,” he said.

“How long do you plan on being here?” Pidge wondered incredulously.

“That depends,” said Lance. “How long do you plan on _detaining_ me?”

Pidge tapped her foot against the hard floor. “I don’t know,” she said. “The warden would’ve worked that out with you, and as far as I know you’re not a high-value prisoner.”

“Not good enough for that?”

“Your rank is only…your rank is the same as mine,” Pidge informed him, “ _Corporal_.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “Oh, you pay attention to your prisoners’ records?”

Pidge fidgeted with the strap on her rifle. “It’s good to know what I’m dealing with.”

Lance hummed, looking thoughtful. “That seems better than most guards here. What else do my records say?”

Pidge raised an eyebrow at him. “I can’t tell you that, Lance.”

“Aw, quiznak.” He grinned. “Guess I’ll have to get the information out of you some other way.”

 _Quiznak?_ Pidge smiled and said, “Good luck with that. Besides, it’s about _you_ , so wouldn’t you know better than me?”

“Listen, Corporal,” Lance said, “it’s always good to know how someone sees you.”

“I’ll…take your word for it, Corporal,” Pidge said.

“Wait, what language is it--”

“Gunderson!”

The sudden call startled Pidge into jerking her head towards it, away from Lance, while the rapid squeaking of boots filled the hall. She spotted her commanding officer approaching, and with a sigh turned to face him and salute.

“Are you fraternizing with a prisoner?” Captain Mika demanded once he stood level with her.

“No,” Pidge said.

“Then why have you been standing outside this one’s cell for so long?” her commander asked, jabbing a finger towards Lance’s cell door.

“Hey, he came onto me, sir,” Lance defended from within.

“Shut up,” the commander bit out without looking at him.

Pidge suppressed a scowl at Lance’s unhelpful comment and told Captain Mika, “We were having a conversation.”

“A friendly one? Do you not have any friends among our own ranks, Gunderson?”

Pidge bit her lip. “I’m on-duty,” she gritted out, “and can’t talk to any of them.” _All_ one _of them,_ she thought.

“And you think that means you can converse with a _prisoner_?” the commander asked, tone stunned.

“I…resent that,” Lance grumbled.

The commander slammed his fist against the cell door, making it rattle and startling Lance into jumping back. An irrational anger surged within Pidge at the sight, but she controlled her temper, stiffening her shoulders and clenching her hand – the one she didn’t have frozen in a salute – into a fist.

“I should recommend you be demoted,” Captain Mika then said as if he hadn’t just lashed out at a prisoner.

Pidge asked, “Why don’t you, sir?”

He squinted his eyes at her, as if worried she mocked him, and a muffled snicker sounded from inside the cell. Then he said, “Consider this a warning, Gunderson. Remember, he’s Altean; they mess with your head, and this?” He pointed at the cell door. “That may not be what he _looks_ like.”

“But why would I ruin a perfectly good piece of art?” Lance wondered.

 _Shut. Up._ But to her relief, this time her commanding officer ignored him. Aloud, Pidge said, “I’m aware that Alteans can camouflage themselves.”

“See that you remember it, Corporal,” said Captain Mika, “or I’ll soon be calling you ‘private’ again.” With that he stalked past her, but Pidge could feel his eyes on her even when he reached the end of the hall, waiting for her to move away from Lance.

“Quiznak,” Lance breathed. “What an _ass_.”

“What commanding officer isn’t?” Pidge said. But she didn’t wait for him to respond to her rhetorical question, instead resuming her patrol of the cells along the hallway. She glanced in some of them to see the prisoners within, exercising or pacing or playing cards they’d somehow smuggled into the prison – not that they would be punished for it; a fair amount of infractions didn’t bother the warden much.

Pidge pointedly refused to even glance through Lance’s window, and for once he didn’t attempt to engage her in conversation.

* * *

Later, when the prisoners were fed their afternoon meal in the mess, Pidge was again on-duty, keeping an eye on those tasked with cooking and serving the food. Among them was Lance.

“You were…curious about my book,” she said to him under her breath.

Lance managed to appear nonchalant, not even a hint of surprise on his face that she addressed him as he scooped blue Arusian tubers onto a waiting inmate’s tray. “Won’t you get in trouble?” he asked, just as softly.

Pidge’s eyes flit around the mess, between inmates and her fellow guards, but then she reached into the pocket inside her uniform jacket – which she’d worn over her armor under the pretense of being cold despite the mild weather – and pulled out _Balmeran Blues_. Then, well-aware of how it might look should anyone catch her, she slid it between Lance’s knees while her heart pounded wildly.

 _It’s just a book,_ she told herself when she withdrew and aimlessly wandered the mess, but of course that was a lie. It was not just a book, and acting friendly with an Altean prisoner so soon after being reprimanded for simply _conversing_ with the same one wasn’t a harmless act.

Pidge did it anyway, the consequences be damned, because maybe something good would come of it.

* * *

The next few quintants passed without Pidge being on-duty in the cell block or around prisoners on work detail, instead either patrolling the yard, the walls, or in the control room. And she wasn’t sure if it was deliberate on her commanding officer’s part – the better to keep her from ‘fraternizing’ – or if he even cared enough to bother.

But at least she found herself working at the same time as Keith.

“I’ve heard some odd rumors,” Keith confessed to her less than a varga into another dull shift in the control room.

Pidge’s eyes were already glazed over as she gazed at the screen in front of her. “Since when do you listen to rumors?”

“I said I _heard_ them,” he emphasized, “not that I _listened_ , and I can’t help what I hear when everyone has their conversations out in the open.”

“Oh, in the mess hall over lunch, was it?” Pidge retorted sardonically. She straightened her already perfectly straight helmet, longing for her book despite the risk of reprimand, but she hadn’t seen _Balmeran Blues_ since she smuggled it to Lance.

And she hadn’t seen him except at a distance since she’d smuggled the book to him.

“Here and there,” Keith admitted with a scowl, his face reflected on the screen she half-heartedly monitored.

It was of a hallway in the cell block, but she was unsure which one. She frowned at a movement onscreen, but it was only a guard pacing the hall, a rifle against his shoulder.

Her frown deepened when he paused, head half-turning towards the wall – towards a _door_. But he resumed his pacing within a few tics.

“Lance?” Pidge muttered, something hot and annoyed shifting in her belly at the possibility.

“You say something?” Keith asked.

“Huh?” Pidge tore her gaze from the screen, meeting his eyes. “No, but you were saying?”

Keith rolled his eyes – she doubted he believed her but knew he wouldn’t press it. “The rumors are about…you.”

Pidge bit her lip; of course they were. “Is it about my frat—”

“It’s about that book,” Keith interrupted, though he narrowed his eyes at her, likely filling in the blanks for what she hadn’t finished saying. “Corporal Yolen has a big mouth; you shouldn’t have been so honest with him.”

“I thought—”

“I know,” Keith said, “and I understand, but…” He rested his elbows on the desk, rubbing his face. “Pidge, most soldiers stationed at this prison are too dumb to know the theme of a book if you wrote it down for them. But the way you talk about it is…” He grimaced. “ _Subversive_.”

Pidge snorted. “I know the Galra aren’t known for their literature,” she conceded, “but maybe that’s okay, isn’t it? There’s a _reason_ my father read that book and asked me to read it too.” _Even if I didn’t understand before,_ she added to herself, the bitter taste of regret thick in her mouth.

“Look, it’s just…If the warden or Captain Mika suspect that your book is causing trouble or unrest or whatever, they’ll do worse than demote you.”

Pidge tapped her fingers against the desk. “You’re one to talk.”

“I’m waiting for my time,” Keith retorted irritably.

“And I’m not?” Pidge glared at him.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, a mannerism only slightly familiar to Pidge. “Patience yields focus,” Keith reminded her.

“Sometimes I think I’m not focusing enough,” she said morosely.

“I…I know,” Keith said, offering her an awkward pat on the shoulder, frowning in understanding.

Pidge smiled, if only to show him she appreciated the gesture and the warning – and relieved he didn’t seem to know about Lance. _And what’s so wrong with that?_ she asked herself again. _If I didn’t talk to him, he’d get bored and start trouble like bored inmates do._

Despite the truth in that thought, the statement didn’t resonate as honest, even to herself.

“I’m just suggesting you hide the book somewhere,” Keith then said. “Tuck it under your mattress and only read it when you’re alone.”

Pidge rested her chin on her folded arms, staring at the screen without seeing it. “Yeah,” she reluctantly agreed, “I’ll find a hiding place.”

* * *

During the next prisoner transfer, when the inmates went a quintant without release into the yard to stretch their legs, Pidge was on-duty in the cell block for the first time in almost a movement. Her feet carried her from one end of the hall to the other, and then to the next hall, past cells of shuffling, sleeping, _bored_ prisoners.

“Long time, no see,” a voice said from inside one cell.

Pidge resisted the urge to pause and instead continued on her patrol. She couldn’t afford to be spotted speaking so familiarly to an inmate, couldn’t afford to be demoted. Her grip tightened around the rifle in her hands as she rounded a corner.

Lance didn’t call after her; Pidge hated how disappointed she was about that.

The next time she passed his cell, another varga later, he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me the author is Altean?”

Pidge froze, slowly turning her head towards his door, where she saw him peeking out of the barred window.

Lance grinned. “I knew that would get your attention.”

She grimaced. “I tried, you-you quiznak. And also, I shouldn’t be talking to you right now. Or ever.”

Lance laughed. “That’s not how you use that word. But anyway, what changed?” he wondered, resting his arms against the bars in his window. “You didn’t seem to care much about the rules _before_ your commanding officer dressed you down.”

Pidge faced his door but didn’t meet his eyes. “I got…reminded of something important. It’s nothing personal.”

“I see,” Lance said, but he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Just tell me something, Corporal.”

“What do you want to know?” She glanced up at him.

“Why can’t we go out today?” He extended his arms over his head, yawning laboriously. “I’m getting bored and was looking forward to stretching my legs.”

“There’s intake today,” Pidge explained. “We’re getting a new batch of prisoners; my commanding officer is helping supervise too.”

“Oh,” Lance said, frowning. “Then it’s up to you to entertain me.”

“It is _not_.”

“It is!” Lance said, an impish grin stretching across his face as he gripped the bars in his window in both hands. “You wouldn’t want me to cause _trouble_ because I’m _bored_ , would you?”

Pidge crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “What sort of trouble would that be?”

“It’s a secret,” Lance said, raising a finger to his lips.

She followed the motion with her eyes, swallowing, before sighing. “I can’t help you, Lance,” she said, “even if I wanted to. I’m not…we’re on different sides of a _war_.”

“I…thought you might say that,” Lance admitted, but then he held up a familiar book.

Pidge’s eyes widened. “Did you-did you finish it?”

“Yeah, and it was actually not bad.” His narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “But of course, I was very, _very_ bored. I do have a question about it though.”

She grinned, unable to resist the opportunity to discuss _Balmeran Blues_ , even with someone she should be avoiding. “What?”

“How did a Galra soldier get their hands on an Altean book? And how can you _read_ it?”

Pidge stared at him, but he met her gaze levelly, almost with a challenge in his eyes. It was a valid question – of course it was, when they both must know that the Emperor banned Altean literature from being disseminated in the Empire’s territories – but Pidge found herself reluctant to answer such a… _personal_ question.

“My…father got it from a colleague of his,” Pidge explained carefully, her eyes slipping past Lance’s face and into his cell instead, heart aching in a familiar way. “He wasn’t Galra _or_ Altean – he wasn’t even from one of the planets occupied by either race – so he could move a little more freely.”

“Huh,” Lance said after a brief yet loud silence. “Sounds like this book’s got quite the history.” He raised an eyebrow at the mangled cover. “Who taught you to read Altean? _That_ doesn’t seem like something Galra schools would teach students.”

Pidge pinched her eyes shut and cursed herself for opening herself up to probing questions just by lending a book. “My father,” she said, tone clipped.

Lance looked like he wanted to ask more - perhaps why her _father_ could read the language of his enemies - but then he slipped the book between the bars of his window. “I…would love to talk about it, but since you insist we shouldn’t, here.” He waved the book at her.

Pidge gaped at it for a heartbeat, then shook her head to clear it. “No, you keep it for now,” she decided quickly. “It’s…it’s become a little dangerous for me to keep it.”

“And you don’t think it would be for _me_?” Lance demanded.

“You may be the prisoner, but we’re scrutinized just as much as you.”

Lance frowned at her, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why? You did nothing wrong. Maybe _I_ should—”

“Hmm, like you say,” Lance interrupted with a wry sort of smile, “I may be the prisoner here, but something tells me you’re as trapped here as I am.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that,” Pidge said, shocked he had deduced as much.

Lance shrugged and added, “Hey, maybe we would’ve been friends if you were born Altean.”

“Or you Galra.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Corporal, you are the only attractive Galra I’ve ever met, so no, no thank you.”

Pidge snorted, bringing a hand up to cover her face at a flash of embarrassment. “You’re so vain,” she said.

“And yet I read a book with an awful cover.” Lance displayed _Balmeran Blues_ again, thumb prodding the artwork. “I’ve met Balmerans, and this is _not_ what they look like.”

“The artist probably hadn’t met one,” Pidge conceded with a nod. Not that _she_ had ever met a Balmeran, but she’d always found the cover art a little less than…nice to look at. “But I’m glad you liked it,” she said, brightening and smiling. “Did you…did you get it?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at her, looking almost suspicious. “It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“You and your family are from a race of warmongers,” he said, but before Pidge could retort irritably – _and you’re not?_ – he continued, “But this book was your _father’s_?”

Pidge cleared her throat and, after a quick glance up and down the hall, leaned towards his door and lowered her voice to say, “My father was – I mean, _is_ and always has been anti-war.”

“And yet he was a military man?”

“I-I didn’t say that,” Pidge said, leaning away in shock. “How did—”

“Lucky guess,” Lance said, shrugging. He sighed, and she could hear him scuffing his feet against the floor inside. “You don’t _look_ like a soldier, so it makes no sense you’d become one.”

Pidge crossed her arms defensively, fingers tapping. “And yet, here I am.”

“Then why are you here, Corporal?” he demanded, eyes sharp as they fell on her again. “You seem”—he held the book up again—“too _smart_ to be stationed at some backwater prison.”

“I…this wasn’t the plan,” she admitted.

“Then what was?”

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him, shoulders still stiff while their gazes held. Her heart pounded, palms sweaty, and she said, “I’m not telling you that.”

“Fine,” Lance said, to her surprise, but he didn’t look pleased with her lack of forthcoming information. “I’ll keep the book safe for you, Corporal.”

It sounded like a dismissal, which, though she’d tried to leave earlier before growing too entrenched in the conversation, still _hurt_. And maybe that could explain what she said next:

“Pidge.”

“What?” Lance frowned at her.

“My name,” she said. “You asked for my name before.”

“Twice,” Lance agreed. “And it’s _Pidge_?”

Her mouth twitched into an involuntary smile. “Yes,” she said, “but if you don’t like it, you can still call me by my rank. I won’t mind.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, a slight, amused smile of his own on his face. “No, Pidge is good enough for me.” His grin widened, and he saluted her mockingly.

Pidge rolled her eyes and turned away to resume her patrol, but every time she peeked into his cell after that, she couldn’t help smiling when she spotted him flipping through her father’s book.


	2. Chapter 2

“Favorite color?”

“Uh, green.”

“Oh, green like plants or green like vomit?”

Pidge wrinkled her nose. “Did you really just ask me that?”

Lance smirked. “You going to answer?”

Pidge shrugged and replied, “Like plants, I guess.” She turned away, resuming her patrol along the hall, leaving Lance to come up with some other mundane question to ask her next time she passed his cell.

It was a sort of game he’d tried for the first time she was on-duty in his cell block since she entrusted _Balmeran Blues_ to him, where Pidge would ostensibly stick to her patrol – not pausing for too long outside his cell so as to attract her comrades’ or commanding officer’s attention – while still, somehow, talking to Lance. Entertaining him, Pidge thought, and entertaining _herself_ ; that was all it was, keeping him from growing so bored he would be tempted to stir up trouble.

 _Is that all?_ a voice in the back of her head – a voice that sounded suspiciously like her brother – asked. _Can you say your motives are admirable if you’re having fun too?_

Pidge quieted the voice without muting it entirely; it was always prepared, always waiting to reprimand her for everything from disloyalty to distraction, more diligent than even Captain Mika was.

“What would you want with you if you crash-landed alone on a deserted planet?” Lance wondered on her next circuit.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “A radio or some other communication system, obviously.”

“But _obviously_ ,” Lance said, peeking out of his window, “your ship’s radio broke in the crash.”

“Then how the quiznak did _I_ survive?” Pidge said, pulling up short in front of his door.

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re not using that word right, you know.”

“Quiznak?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “It’s a curse, sure, but you _exclaim_ it when you’re mad or frustrated.”

“Well, in case you didn’t know,” Pidge said, “languages are constantly evolving, so if I want to use ‘quiznak’ like _that_ , then I will.”

Lance barked a laugh, actually looking amused, and for a few tics, Pidge felt a flash of irritation at his mirth, until he propped an elbow at the bottom of his window and, with a fond smile, said, “Oh, you have an answer to everything, don’t you?”

“Except your stupid crash question, apparently,” Pidge retorted, crossing her arms.

“Fine,” Lance said, pointing at her. “But your radio is broken.”

“I can repair it then.” She shrugged. “If I have the right parts – even if I don’t, depending on the damage – it wouldn’t be hard, especially if it was a standard system.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Really?” he said. “ _You_ could fix a radio?”

“Any communication device, probably.” When he still only stared at her incredulously, Pidge prompted, “What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…how the _quiznak_ are you only a _Corporal_?”

Pidge couldn’t help her slow smirk at his flattering question. “Wouldn’t _you_ like to know.” She turned and carried on with her patrol, drifting away from his cell.

“Corporal!” Lance called behind her. “Come on, tell me!”

Pidge rolled her eyes, but her smile faltered by the time she reached the end of her hall. And the next time she passed his cell, before he could ask again, she said, “You used ‘quiznak’ _incorrectly_.”

“Aw, quiznak,” Lance grumbled. “You caught that, did you?”

Pidge snickered without pausing for long, but after a second thought she tossed over her shoulder, “What’s _your_ favorite color, Corporal?”

“Blue,” he said quickly, easily, as if he’d been expecting the question. “And before you ask, if _I_ crash-landed on a deserted planet, I would take a friend.”

“Then it wouldn’t be deserted anymore,” Pidge pointed out.

“It wouldn’t be deserted anymore if I was there _alone_ ,” Lance retorted.

Pidge grinned and continued on her way, but her smile faltered when she spotted her commanding officer at the end of the hallway, his arms crossed and expression dour when he looked at her. “Sir,” she said, halting in front of him and saluting.

“At ease, Corporal,” he said.

“Sir?”

“I’m not here to reprimand you this time,” said Captain Mika, narrowing his eyes at her, “though I suspect I may need to soon.” His eyes drifted past her, like he expected to find Lance _outside_ his cell.

 _I would never,_ Pidge thought. “Then…what is it, sir?” But she dropped her hand, and though she forced her body to visibly relax, her heart kept a rapid pace in her chest, so loud she feared he would hear it.

 _Do they know? No, he doesn’t look…angry, so he_ can’t _._ But she couldn’t convince herself.

But Captain Mika turned around, beckoning for her to follow him, and when she did he asked, “What can you tell me of Corporal Kogane?”

Pidge blinked; that was the _last_ question she’d expected. “Keith?” she said, stunned. “I, uh, he’s Galra but he wasn’t born on Daibazaal. He’s from—”

“I know all that,” Captain Mika interrupted, leading her out of the hall and away from the cell block towards the small holding cells where they held the odd, _rare_ interrogation. “What I want to know is what I don’t already, Corporal.”

“And you think _I_ can tell you?”

Her commanding officer glanced over his shoulder at her. “You _are_ friends, aren’t you? Both of you are only ever seen alone or in each other’s company.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, grimacing, and Pidge wondered if he was thinking about her too-open conversations with Lance.

Pidge shrugged. “I’ve only known Keith as long as I’ve been stationed here, sir,” she lied. “And he’s somewhat secretive.” _Like I’m one to talk._

“I am aware of _that_ , unfortunately,” said Captain Mika with a scowl.

They reached an interrogation room then, and he waved her inside before following her and closing the door. Keith sat at the table, though to her relief he wasn’t cuffed. But another officer stood at his shoulder, one Pidge was sure she didn’t recognize; that sizable cybernetic left arm and eye would have been memorable.

(She had to keep herself from staring in fascination at the technology though.)

Keith kept his face carefully impassive, and the only sign he was surprised to see Pidge was a slight widening of his eyes. “I…what’s this about, sir?” he asked, gaze flitting from Captain Mika to the cyborg officer at his shoulder.

Captain Mika took the seat across from Keith and said to Pidge, “This is General Sendak, Corporal. He’s here investigating a security breach at Central Command from almost two years ago.”

Pidge stiffened, heart picking up its pace while the palms of her hands dampened. General Sendak? _The_ General Sendak?

“I’ve never been to Central Command,” Keith said carefully.

“No one is accusing you, Corporal,” General Sendak said, his true eye fixed on Keith while the other swiveled to examine Pidge, making her skin crawl. “ _Yet_.”

“Then what—”

“The files the hacker attempted to access were relevant to a certain _mission_ undertaken by Major and Lieutenant Holt,” said the general, rounding the table so he stood beside Captain Mika and faced Keith, hands clasped behind his back. “And accompanying Major and Lieutenant Holt on their stealth mission to one of Altea’s moons was a certain man not enlisted in the Galra military.”

Keith pinched his lips together, and even Pidge could see his emotions boiling just under the surface, his knuckles paling as he clenched his hands into fists. “Who?”

Pidge struggled to keep her own emotions in check as General Sendak said, “Shiro, planet of origin unknown.”

“Is he alive?” Keith demanded. “Is that why you’re telling me this?”

“No, and no,” said General Sendak. “There are certain _charges_ laid against you.”

“What?” Keith said.

 _What?_ Pidge thought, her eyes widening against her will while Keith’s fell on her. “What charges?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

Everyone swiveled to look at her, Sendak’s bionic eye piercing. “And who are you…Corporal?” he asked, gaze drifting down to her tags.

Pidge’s mouth dried up. “Uh…”

“This is Corporal Pidge Gunderson,” Captain Mika was quick to say, shooting her a reproachful side-eye. “You asked to meet Corporal Kogane’s friends, and Corporal Gunderson is the only one I’m aware of.”

“Not popular, are you, Corporal?” General Sendak drawled as he faced Keith again.

“I…” He cleared his throat and said, “I’ve never even set foot in Galra Central Command.”

“So you say,” said Sendak. Then, without lifting his gaze from Keith, he continued, “Captain Mika, please retrieve Corporal Kogane’s file for me, including a detailed review of his skillset. If we are to clear his name, I must know if he’s even capable of breaking into _Central Command’s_ online systems without being detected.” He frowned. “Something tells me he is not.”

Keith scowled, and Pidge tapped her fingers against her thigh, eyes wide and palms damp with sweat while she waited.

“As for Corporal Gunderson…” General Sendak glanced at her, but his lip curled, as if disgusted or…unimpressed. “I find myself disappointed in the company you keep, Corporal Kogane, but perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised that the half-breed is friends with a weakling.”

Pidge stiffened, but when she spotted Keith make as if to jump out of his seat, she shook her head in warning. To her surprise, he obeyed her unspoken command and sunk back into it.

“For now, you will be placed in a holding cell until we determine if you are worthy of arrest or not,” General Sendak explained, showing no reaction to Keith’s movement. “Captain Mika, I trust you will see to that?”

“Yes, sir,” said their commanding officer, standing up and saluting as Sendak swept out of the interrogation room without another word. Then Captain Mika spun towards Keith and pointed at him. “Even if you are cleared of all charges, if you cause any trouble for General Sendak I am recommending you for demotion,” he warned. “This is the highest profile visit this backwater prison has ever gotten, and I will not have you making the warden look bad.” He glanced at Pidge, gaze still fierce, including her in his threat. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said Pidge, which Keith parroted in a lower voice.

“Good,” said Captain Mika. “Corporal Gunderson, please return to your station. Corporal Kogane, come with me.”

Pidge preceded them out of the room, but stepped aside as the commander and Keith walked past. She averted her eyes from Keith though, feeling the strength of a stare fixed on her. Anxiety churned in her gut, and she bit her lip in consideration because Keith was smart enough to put everything together.

Guilt replaced anxiety, threatening to overpower her. _I shouldn’t have kept it from him,_ she thought, her mind only half-focused on where she was walking and barely registering the unusual noise in the prison yard.

“Are you all right, Corporal?”

The sudden, familiar voice brought her to a halt, and she half-turned to see Lance staring worriedly at her. “What’re you doing outside?” she demanded.

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s recess,” he explained simply. “Are you…you look like you’re very _worried_ about something. Are we about to be under attack?”

Pidge stared at him. “What makes you say _that_?”

Lance shrugged, then wondered, “So?”

“If we were, they wouldn’t tell _me_ ,” she replied. “I’m just a low-ranking grunt.”

“Yes, but you’re a _smart_ low-ranking grunt.” Lance rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Pidge shuffled her feet, his scrutiny making her fidget. “Do you have a point?”

“Actually, I do.” He stepped a little closer to her, though still maintaining some distance, likely just as aware as her that they were conversing familiarly _very_ publicly. “Where are you _supposed_ to be, Corporal?”

Pidge blinked at him. “In the cell block, on guard duty.”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Lance chuckled, waving his hands dismissively. “You don’t want to be here, right?”

“That is…what you seem to think,” Pidge said cautiously.

“Are you saying you _do_?”

“It’s not something I can discuss openly,” she said, scowling at him. “I don’t go around telling everyone my history. Even _Keith_ —” She cut herself off, choking on shame, and covered her mouth.

“Who?” Lance asked, blinking at her and frowning.

“My friend,” she said; she _hoped_. “Another guard.”

“All right, well, I get it,” Lance said, shrugging. “You feel like you need to be private, especially if your father was really—”

“ _Lance_ ,” Pidge hissed.

“—like _that_ ,” he finished and rolled his eyes. “Just…you don’t seem like you should be a guard at a Galra prison on _Arus_. Maybe you should be a…university student.”

“The Galra don’t value education like Alteans do,” Pidge grumbled, crossing her arms.

“And yet your tech is almost as advanced as ours,” Lance pointed out reasonably.

Pidge sighed and admitted, “It’s more of an…elite thing.” She stared at the ground and grimaced. “I…got accepted to the top military academy in the Empire two years ago, but something happened and I was barred from entering so had to enlist as a regular soldier.”

“Stop teasing me, Corporal,” Lance said. When she looked up at him, she saw a frown rather than the smirk she expected. “You’re quite a puzzle.”

“And what about _you_ , Corporal?” Pidge retorted. “All I know about you is that your favorite color is blue, you don’t like reading, and you want a friend to be stranded with you on a desert planet.”

Lance laughed. “I liked the book.”

Pidge smiled, just a little. “Yes, you liked the book.”

“Well, here’s what _I_ don’t get,” Lance continued, pressing a finger into his chin. “If your father was”—at Pidge’s glare, he rolled his eyes—“like he was, why would _you_ want to join the military?”

“The options,” she said. “The opportunities. Science, engineering, research…” She flexed her hands. “As you can see, I don’t exactly have the ideal Galra physique, so my options are more limited.”

“So they are,” Lance conceded. “And yet you’re here.”

“I almost failed boot camp,” she said with a wry smile.

“And how did you expect to succeed at a _military_ academy?”

Pidge shrugged and said, “I was accepted on a more intellectual basis. I…wanted to be a pilot, originally, but it wasn’t really an option for me.” Her eyes wandered upwards, to the wide blue sky and the thin gray wisps of cloud lazily drifting across it. A cargo ship launched from the tiny shuttleport just beyond the prison’s walls, its boosters trailing steam in its wake.

“Oh,” Lance said, and something in his tone captured Pidge’s attention, so she met his eyes. “I always wanted to be a pilot too.”

“Why didn’t you, then? Maybe you wouldn’t be here if you had been.”

Lance crossed his arms, looking more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him, even in his first quintants in the prison. “I wasn’t accepted into flight school.” Curiously, his facial markings darkened as he spoke.

“I’m…sorry,” Pidge said, unsure what else she could say.

Lance shrugged, recovering to the point that he almost fooled her into thinking he was unbothered. “It’s in the past,” he said with a dismissive wave, a smile on his face. “And I like where I am now.”

Pidge quirked a skeptical eyebrow at him. “In prison?”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe not, then.”

Pidge smiled, but then she spotted Captain Mika and General Sendak from over his shoulder. A chill of dread came over her, and to Lance she said, “I have to go.”

“Yes, duty calls,” Lance said, throwing up a mocking salute as she turned tail and…did _not_ flee.

No, Pidge forced herself to walk slowly and deliberately away, back to her station in the cell block. And despite the worry for Keith – the worry for herself – still churning in her gut, she thought she managed it.

* * *

A furious pounding on her door woke Pidge the next morning. She sat up slowly, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and trudged to the door. When she opened it, Keith stood outside, hand raised to knock again and with a scowl on his face.

“Keith?” Pidge said, sleepiness vanishing as her eyes widened.

Keith pushed past her without invitation, and Pidge closed the door behind them, turning to face him. But before she could ask what he wanted, he demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me he was alive?”

Pidge knew exactly who he spoke of, and the guilt washed over her again. Still, she forced herself to meet Keith’s eyes. “General Sendak didn’t even mention that.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me you _broke into Central Command_?” He waved his arms around furiously to emphasize.

Pidge crossed her arms. “They cleared you?”

“Yes, no thanks to _you_ ,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “How did you even _manage_ that?”

She bit her lip. “I stole a—”

“No, wait, I don’t actually want to know.” Keith covered his ears. “Just…just tell me what you found out, and why you didn’t tell me.”

Pidge inhaled sharply. “I…they might be alive.” She flinched when she saw the fierce hope in Keith’s eyes and quickly added, “ _Might_ be. But quiznak, I hope they are.” She rubbed her face and groaned. “Keith, they must be; why else would the official story be that they’re dead?”

“Quiznak?” Keith asked, sounding confused, but then he shook his head, dismissing the question. “I don’t know, but that doesn’t erase the fact that you _didn’t tell me_ . Why _not_ , Pidge?”

“I…maybe I should have,” she conceded.

“Damn right,” he grumbled.

“But Keith, even with what I found at Central Command, we don’t know everything, and you would’ve been too hasty.”

“Pidge, the Alteans have Shiro! They have your _family_!”

“I-I know!” Pidge retorted. “You think I _don’t_ know? I’ve been sitting on this information for almost two years, waiting and waiting and _waiting_ because I was an idiot who got kicked out of the academy before I could even _start_ .” She glared at Keith. “So how do you think _I_ feel?”

“Pidge—”

“We can’t _get there on our own_ ,” Pidge retorted. “I can’t fly, and you-you got demoted and lost all your privileges!” She jabbed a finger at him. “We have _none_ of the resources that we desperately need to get to Altea, and—” She scowled, pressing her fingers into her eyes to try to stem the sudden flow of tears. “I’m too weak and you’re too volatile to get that far.”

“Just because they tell us that doesn’t mean it’s true,” Keith argued.

“I know,” Pidge said, though she didn’t believe him, “and this doesn’t mean I’m giving up, you _quiznak_!”

Keith didn’t respond immediately, and when she lowered her hands and stared at him through her tears, he blinked at her and said, “What does that even _mean_?”

“It’s a-an Altean swear,” Pidge said dismissively. “I overheard some of the inmates using it.”

“Your _friend_ , you mean,” Keith said.

“No, Lance isn’t my friend,” Pidge denied quickly.

Keith crossed his arms. “You’re on a first-name basis with him, Pidge.”

“He’s a prisoner!” Pidge rushed to defend herself, and why the quiznak was her face so hot? “Am I going to address him by his _rank_?”

Keith shrugged. “If you need to talk to him, why not?”

Pidge sighed. “He doesn’t matter,” she said. “He’s just bored and talking to me keeps him from acting out, I think.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, that’s what you think, is it?”

“Yes,” Pidge insisted with a frown.

Keith held her gaze, but then he sighed and said, “I’m still angry.”

“I…maybe you should be,” she said.

“And I think you shouldn’t talk to that inmate so _closely_.”

“Thank you for your unwanted input,” Pidge grumbled.

“Look, just…be careful, Pidge,” Keith said, pinching the bridge of his nose like she’d seen Shiro do a few times. “You know how rumors can be.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I do.”

“Good,” Keith said. He nodded and turned to leave, then tossed over his shoulder, “And if you _do_ find anything else about Shiro, _please_ tell me as soon as possible.”

“I will, Keith,” Pidge promised.

“Thank you.” He opened her door and left, letting it swing shut behind him.

Pidge sat on the edge of her bed and buried her face in her hands; she’d only just woken up, but she already felt exhausted, her muscles too tense, her heart wrung out, her nerves frayed and worn. _And_ she still had mind-numbingly dull guard duty to look forward to.

Well, she thought, alighting on something that might cheer her up, at least she could see Lance.

* * *

It hit her while she and a handful of other guards supervised a small crew of prisoners on work detail. While they pointlessly mopped one hallway after another - a task that a service drone could complete in less time - Pidge’s mind reeled, her rifle nearly slipping from her hands.

“Quiznak,” she hissed.

“What?” Lance asked, pausing in his mopping. “What’s wrong?”

She barely heard him, instead pressing a hand to her forehead and wondering why she hadn’t realized it earlier when Keith confronted her in her bunk. “No, no, _no_ ,” she muttered, rubbing her face. “ _Quiznak_.”

“Pidge,” Lance said, alarm in his voice. “What’s _wrong_ ? Did something happen? Are _you_ hurt?”

Pidge looked up, taking in everything from the furtive glance he tossed over his shoulder to his furrowed brow; something about the sight touched her, his obvious concern for her flattering if not truly soothing. So she admitted, “I just…I just remembered something.”

“What?” Lance said. “I’m guessing it’s bad?” He resumed mopping, his eyes on the floor and lips barely moving.

“It’s…very bad,” she said. Because…if General Sendak had suspected Keith of breaking into Central Command due to his association with Shiro, then it was another step to suspecting Sam and Matt Holt’s family members, suspecting Colleen or Katie Holt.

Suspecting _Pidge_.

“Quiznak,” Pidge said, “and my _mother_ doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?” Lance said. “Seriously, Pidge, I’m getting worried.”

“It’s not…it’s none of your business,” she told him without any bite, too preoccupied with her newfound fears. Quiznak, Sendak could find out; what if he interviewed Colleen Holt? What if her mother was captured and interrogated when they learned her daughter was missing? What if they _tortured_ her, deduced an offense serious enough to subject her to the Druids?

Pidge clutched her head and sunk down to the floor, leaning against the wall. Everything felt like it spiraled out of her control, unreachable and unattainable, just like it did when her father and brother were first reported dead. Mistake after mistake, and now her mother might be in danger.

“Lance,” she said, voice quiet.

“Pidge?” he said.

“Have you ever—” She cut herself off, swallowed, and tried again. “Have you ever done something bad, and you weren’t caught, but then someone else got caught because they were inconveniently connected to what you did?”

“Uh…what?”

Pidge sighed and rephrased, “Has someone else ever been accused of something _you_ did?”

“Well, obviously,” Lance said. “I once shaved my grandfather’s mustache while he was napping; my sister got blamed for it.”

Pidge blinked, but smiled, somewhat amused. “Nothing more serious than that?”

“I can’t think of anything,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“I…something bad almost happened to my friend,” she explained carefully, “because of something _I_ did.”

“Well, only _almost_ is a good thing, right?”

Pidge bit her lip and admitted, “My mother might be in danger.”

“Oh, quiznak,” Lance breathed. “How bad?”

Pidge stood and approached him, so close that, if he wanted to use it, the mop in his hands could become a weapon. “Deadly.”

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know,” she said, turning her back to him again. “I wish I knew.”

“I’m…flattered,” Lance said, tone dripping sarcasm.

“It’s just that my only friend is angry with me—”

“Because of what you did that he almost got accused of?”

“Yeah, and I can’t…talk to him like I might usually.” She glanced over her shoulder and up, at his face.

“Huh, I _am_ flattered then,” Lance said, brightening, but his smile faltered and he said, “I’m sorry I can’t be of much help here, Pidge.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to fix it,” she said, shrugging and rubbing her face, “but thank you for listening.”

“Sure,” Lance said. “Anytime. I…don’t have much else to do, as you can see.” He brandished the mop at her, water dripping from it and collecting on the floor.

That, somehow, startled a laugh out of Pidge, but she sobered quickly when she realized the rest of the group - guards and prisoners alike - had pulled far ahead of them.

“We need to catch up,” Pidge said, her eyes wide and heart pounding. If they were caught - if she’d been _overheard_...

“So we do.” He glanced at her loosely held rifle, then rolled his eyes. “You’re not very good at this.”

“What?”

“Point it at me,” Lance suggested. “Make it look like you held me back because I was doing an awful job of cleaning.”

Pidge clutched her rifle and directed it at him, the barrel angled down slightly. She scowled at him when he smirked. “You don’t have to look so pleased that I’m listening to you.”

Lance coughed, cheek marks darkening as he said, “I’m definitely not.”

“Then move,” she said, nudging him with her blaster.

“All right, all right, Corporal,” Lance grumbled, and by the time they caught up to the rest of the work detail, Pidge thought they looked enough like annoyed guard and abashed prisoner to avoid arousing suspicion.

She _hoped_.

* * *

When General Sendak’s pod launched from the shuttleport, Pidge couldn’t bring herself to feel any relief, not when she worried he might be her mother’s next guest.

Keith also continued to avoid her, and though he frowned rather than scowled at her when their eyes met, he was always quick to stalk off in a different direction.

It didn’t help that their fellow guards – their un-fraternal brothers-in-arms – selected Keith’s brief detention for their next topic of gossip.

“Good thing you stopped talking to him, Gunderson,” Corporal Yolen once told her, approaching her without so much as a _by your leave_. “You know how people like him are.”

Pidge didn’t bother looking up from the book in her hands, but she did raise an eyebrow and ask, “People _like him_ ? And what the quiznak is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“What’s a ‘quiznak’?” Sergeant Norvik, a higher ranking guard often with Corporal Yolen, muttered.

“He’s only half-Galra,” Yolen said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Everyone knows that, if you’re only half-Galra, you’re only half as loyal to the Empire.”

Pidge gritted her teeth but said, “And if you have half a brain, I guess that makes you half as smart, right?”

Yolen blinked at her, then scowled at the insult. “I was trying to be friendly, Gunderson,” he said. “Kogane was your friend, but—”

“He’s _still_ my friend,” Pidge interrupted with a scowl of her own. “Having a fight doesn’t change that.” Without waiting for a response from Yolen or his buddies, she snapped her book shut and stood, tossing her half-finished meal into a trash can on her way out of the mess hall.

Despite being off-duty, her feet took her to the prison yard where the inmates were currently taking their recess. Her eyes were automatically drawn to Lance, and for a few tics she examined him from a distance, surrounded by a few Altean inmates and at least one other of a different race. From where she stood she could see his profile, the sharp slope of his long, thin nose, the corner of his mouth tugged up into an amused smile. Her own lips twitched, an involuntary response; something about his smile was infectious, even from this far away.

Tall and lean, with hair that looked soft to the touch and skin that almost glowed in the sunlight, even Pidge could agree that Lance was nice to look at… _objectively_.

 _It’s…warm out today,_ Pidge thought, pressing a hand against her chest as a strange, though not unpleasant, warmth bloomed within.

As she watched, Lance’s group of inmates burst into uproarious laughter, the sound carrying over the noise the other prisoners produced in their own cliques. But for some reason, Lance didn’t even smile.

He crossed his arms and scowled, eyes fixed on a particular comrade of his. Then they stood nose to nose, and Pidge stiffened, surprised and wondering if – even if she was off-duty – she would have to intervene before a fight broke out.

The other Altean glanced around, but then his eyes fell on Pidge.

 _What the quiznak?_ She stared at him, frowning when he smirked and turned back to Lance, nodding his head in her direction and confusing her further. Was she about to be the target of some ridicule? Was Lance about to _agree_?

Pidge stiffened and took a step back, her heart sinking into her stomach as she considered the possibility. Better to be out of earshot when people gossiped about her; she’d learned that a long time ago.

But before she could make her escape to ignorance, Lance’s fist connected with the other inmate’s jaw with an audible _crunch_ , knocking him backwards but not down.

The inmate brought a hand to his face, where a livid red mark already bloomed across his skin. And though Lance stood in front of him with fists clenched, prepared to throw another punch, the other’s shock dissipated fast.

A few other prisoners jumped on him, holding him back before he could retaliate with a lunge, while another stood between him and Lance. Pidge shook herself out of her own stunned stupor and joined a fellow guard in going to break up the fight before it could escalate.

“What was that for?” the one that received the hit demanded when they were in earshot.

“You know what!” Lance retorted as Sergeant Norvik – bigger and faster than Pidge – grabbed his arms and pulled him away from the growing crowd. Corporal Yolen took the other inmate away, and both of them followed Lance and his detaining guard back inside while a few others forced the crowd to disperse.

Captain Mika appeared a few doboshes later, and recess ended a whole varga early. But Pidge drifted in the direction that Lance and the other inmate were taken, towards solitary confinement. She grimaced involuntarily; no matter how long they left Lance in a solitary cell, he would _hate_ it.

Pidge almost ran headlong into Yolen as he left the building, and without a second thought she demanded, “How long will they be in there?”

He shrugged and said, “It’s up to Captain Mika and the warden, isn’t it?” Then, apparently remembering the abrupt end of their earlier conversation, he scowled and side-stepped her, leaving her standing alone.

Pidge tossed one last glance at the solitary cells before inhaling sharply and leaving to start her next shift.

* * *

The next two quintants were lonelier than Pidge was used to, between Keith’s avoidance and Lance’s confinement. She couldn’t even read through _Balmeran Blues_ again since Lance hid it in his cell.

And yet, while patrolling the cell block, she paused outside his door like usual, but unlike the usual he didn’t greet her from inside or ask her any silly questions. No teasing, no chatting, no…irritation.

Pidge scowled at the door; she hadn’t realized how much Lance had become a fixture in her life until she suddenly couldn’t speak to him. No one sat inside that cell, and nothing…unless she could find her father’s book.

She glanced up and down the hallway and raised her hand to scan her print to open the door, but before she could press her palm to the screen, a voice from within a different cell called out, “Corporal!”

Pidge flinched, surprised, but she recovered quickly and stalked a few doors down to the speaker. “What?” she said, looking through the window to see another Altean inmate, one she thought she recognized from the yard, often with Lance. “What do you want?”

“Nothing, just…” He frowned at her, eyes narrowed, and she had the distinct impression that he was appraising her, sizing her up. “We don’t all think like Aron does.”

“Who?” Pidge said.

“Sergeant Aron,” the prisoner explained. “The man that Lance punched yesterday during recess.”

“But what does that have to do with _me_?” Pidge wondered.

“I shouldn’t say, Corporal,” he said, lowering his gaze. “Most Alteans hate Galra.”

“Most Galra hate Alteans,” Pidge retorted, crossing her arms. “I’m not sure I understand your point.”

“You’re trapped in this war same as us,” said the inmate. “Some people don’t understand that.”

Pidge stared at him, stunned. _Love your enemy,_ her father used to say sometimes, but she’d never understood it, not really. How could you love someone that wanted to see you dead?

“Do Alteans have…conscriptions?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Mandatory conscription for a five-year tour when we’re of age. If we survive, we can choose to continue; if we get captured but ransomed within a year, the tour is cut in half.”

“I see. We have mandatory conscription too.” Pidge wiped her palms on her legs and quietly added, “If you’re physically able. If not…” She scowled, then shook her head to clear it. “I still don’t understand how you can _not_ hate us.”

“You don’t want to be here,” said the inmate. “Neither do we; that gives us something in common.”

Pidge blinked at him, stunned by such a simple remark. It was…something to consider, wasn’t it? “I’m…still on-duty,” she told him, spinning around and leaving him without another word.

But _his_ stayed with her, made her think of all the other worlds drawn into the war between the Galra and the Alteans, whether they were stages for battles or forced conscripts or colonies of either empire. _Why are we fighting?_ her father once asked her and Matt. _What injustice are we trying to right?_

He hadn’t wanted them to answer, only think. And even when she read _Balmeran Blues_ , his favorite book, she’d only _thought_ she understood what he tried to tell her.

Pidge needed that book back.

She opened Lance’s cell, but even the sparse furnishings – nothing but a bunk with a few thin bedsheets, a toilet and sink in a corner, and a shelf for assorted belongings permitted inmates – revealed little. The walls were only the same dull gray metal and concrete of the rest of the prison, and there wasn’t even a window to provide a view of the yard outside. Bleak, like the future.

Pidge approached the shelf, taking in the few odd trinkets resting on it:  an uncut and unset Balmeran crystal, an unadorned silver ring, and a paper photograph.

Except for the one tucked away in her room, Pidge hadn’t seen one of _those_ since she was a child, safe and naïve in her parents’ home; she picked it up, curious, and examined the large, smiling family on it.

 _Which one are you?_ she wondered, feeling the corners of her mouth ticking up in an involuntary smile. A range of ages were represented, from a baby held by its father to the elderly Altean couple seated in the middle, everyone else standing and surrounding them. She narrowed her eyes at each face in turn, wondering how each one was related to Lance; perhaps the couple in the middle were his grandparents, and maybe the baby a younger sibling or cousin.

“Pidge?”

Flinching – quiznak, why did she have to be so _jumpy_? – Pidge spun around to see Keith standing in the doorway, staring at her incredulously. “What?” she asked.

“What are you doing?”

“What are _you_ doing?” she retorted, defensive and self-conscious. She replaced the photo on the shelf and followed Keith back into the hallway, slamming the cell door shut behind her, objective forgotten. “Are you even on-duty now?”

“Yes, I just got on,” Keith told her, crossing his arms. “And I didn’t see you get off.”

Pidge met his eyes. “Well, I’m leaving now,” she said. “I’ll see you later.” She pushed past him and back down the hall, past the cell belonging to the inmate she’d spoken to earlier.

When she returned to her room, she buried her face in her pillow and growled in frustration.

* * *

Pidge’s next shift was in the control room, which, though a generally dull duty, at least gave her access to a few computers. And through _those_ she could find her way into the facility’s databases and find both prisoner and personnel files.

Pidge tapped her finger while seated at her terminal, thinking. Nothing interesting happened on screen since all the inmates were in their cells. And Keith…

She found herself curious about his history all over again, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t know about him. She knew he hadn’t been born on Daibazaal, unlike her, and that he’d mostly grown up without his parents and was once a pilot before being demoted.

Quiznak, she didn’t even know what he must’ve done to get demoted all the way down to Corporal. _We both have secrets._

Pidge bit her lip, but before she could reconsider she found her way to the personnel files. She copied the one labeled _Keith Kogane_ and sent it to her personal tablet. And after another thought, she navigated to the prisoner files. After finding Lance’s, she copied and sent _that_ as well.

She exhaled as she withdrew from the confidential files, careful not to leave a trace of her hacking behind, but as the screen reverted back to the feed from a surveillance camera, movement in a corner caught her eye.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at the screen at the sight of two guards on what looked like a _stroll_ through a hallway lined with empty prison cells. Usually the unoccupied portions of the cell block weren’t closely monitored, but she’d cycled to this one by mistake after finishing her snooping.

Well, it seemed that her _snooping_ wasn’t done after all.

She recognized the two guards on-screen as Corporal Yolen and Sergeant Norvik, and her jaw dropped when, tics within watching, they started _kissing_.

Pidge covered her eyes and quickly skipped to a different feed, sighing when she peeked between her fingers to see a view of the prison yard. She bit her lip and tried to forget what she’d accidentally witnessed. She might not like Yolen, but that didn’t mean she wanted to get him arrested - or worse - for _fraternizing_.

* * *

The night guard shift was consistently dull enough that even Pidge’s commanding officer couldn’t fault her for lurking in a corner between the prison’s outermost wall and the lookout tower. She held her personal tablet, which she’d retrieved from her room with the files downloaded to it, alternating between scanning its screen and glancing about for movement, whether for ally or enemy or both.

(Lately, Pidge wasn’t sure which was which.)

Neither Keith’s nor Lance’s files contained any particularly surprising information, at least at first glance. Lance’s especially was largely unobtrusive and sparse in details, including only his military history, but…

 _He_ flunked out _of flight school?_

Pidge tapped her finger against the screen, biting her lip. That wasn’t what he’d told her… Why did he tell her that he never got accepted? Why would he think _failing_ was any _worse_?

Was he _embarrassed_? Or, a more rational voice told her, maybe he simply didn’t trust her and wished to keep some things close to his chest.

There was more about Lance that Pidge didn’t know, more that his prisoner file couldn’t tell her, but that _he_ could. _But why should I_ care _?_

Pidge sighed – she’d trusted him to keep her father’s favorite book _safe_ ; of course she cared! – but put it out of her mind as she swapped over to Keith’s file.

After a quick salute at a passing superior officer, Pidge scrolled down the file, only to come across an audio recording with a transcript from a battle on the ground here on planet Arus:

 **_Mission Commander Harkin:_ ** _The Alteans are in full retreat! Lieutenant Kogane, shoot the bridge from the air!_  
**_Lieutenant Kogane:_ ** _Sir, there are Arusian civilians on the bridge._  
**_Harkin:_ ** _That doesn’t matter. Destroy the bridge and cut off the Alteans’ retreat!_  
**_Kogane:_ ** _[silence]_  
**_Harkin:_ ** _Are you disobeying direct orders, Lieutenant?_  
**_Kogane:_ ** _No, sir. Only waiting._  
**_Harkin:_ ** _Shoot—_ _  
_ [Lieutenant Kogane’s fighter fires on the bridge and destroys it, but most of the Alteans were able to retreat when he hesitated]

And there it was, at last the mystery of how and why Keith fell so far, from ace pilot to prison guard. It…shocked Pidge, but a part of her might’ve already suspected something like this, between his contentions with their peers and how he took to the message in _Balmeran Blues_ so quickly, quicker than she did.

 _Where is your non-Galra parent from?_ She scrolled through the file, but a sudden burst of noise startled her into fumbling the tablet, the sound so loud that a sudden rush of air tore at the loose fabric on her uniform.

Shouting erupted in the wake of the explosion. Pidge tucked the tablet into her uniform coat and ran towards the source. She followed her peers up the stairs to the wall where they all clustered at the railing and stared out into the plains, past the low, shrubby hills that obscured the horizon. The guards chattered amongst themselves about whatever caused it.

A thick plume of smoke rose over the hills from something beyond them far into the distance, faintly illuminated by Arus’ blue moon. “A…meteorite?” she muttered under her breath, squinting toward the horizon. “A crashed ship?”

Nearby, a fellow guard – one whose name Pidge didn’t know – told one of his companions, “It was a burst of light that came streaking down, like a shooting star but bigger.”

Pidge glanced at him, and after deducing that he ranked even lower than _her_ (only a private), she retreated from the crowd and back down the stairs to the ground. Her heart sank into her stomach, and if it _was_ a crashed ship like a part of her now feared – especially with the private’s description – she worried what consequences would come of it.

* * *

The meteorite – apparently what the prison’s scanners registered the crashed object as – was all anyone spoke of in the commissary during breakfast. New topics of gossip were generally few and far between – and General Sendak’s visit had ended long enough ago that only the most obtuse guards still spoke of it – so many latched onto this, even if they considered a meteorite something _mundane_.

“Did you see it, Gunderson?” Corporal Yolen asked her.

“No,” Pidge said, “but I felt it.”

“You _felt_ it?” Sergeant Norvik said incredulously. “How do you feel a falling meteor?”

Pidge shrugged. “If it falls faster than the speed of sound, it can cause a sonic boom, so that causes an explosion that also travels faster than sound, and—”

Yolen interrupted her with a quiet remark – too quiet for her to hear, but just loud enough that it disrupted her thoughts – to Sergeant Norvik. They snickered, and Pidge’s face heated with embarrassment.

 _I know something about you that you wouldn’t want anyone else to,_ she thought but didn’t say, humiliation staying her tongue.

Without finishing the rest of her meal, she stood up and mumbled that she would soon be on-duty, and left.

Predictably, Pidge wasn’t on-duty when Lance was finally permitted to leave solitary confinement and return to his cell, but Keith was and she couldn’t help asking him about him.

“I bet he went stir-crazier than usual,” Pidge mused, managing to keep genuine worry for him out of her voice.

Keith only shot her a flat look, apparently still annoyed with her; she bit her lip and considered…

“You know, you two have some things in common,” she said. Her heart pounding rapidly at the risk she knew she was about to take, but maybe she could reconcile with Keith and see Lance again in a single day.

And they would _both_ be interested in speculating about what fell from the sky while she was on-duty the night before.

Keith crossed his arms. “I doubt that,” he said.

“Well, like you, he was a pilot, sort of.”

“So…?” Keith narrowed his eyes at her. “What are you getting at?”

Pidge sighed. “I mean, to be fair, his reason for demotion wasn’t as noble as _yours_ —”

“What?”

“—but he liked _Balmeran Blues_ about as much as you did!” Pidge smiled at Keith hopefully, but when she saw his eyes widen right before his mouth twisted into a scowl, her stomach sank, and she thought, _Quiznak._

“You gave _him_ the book?” Keith demanded. “And how—you know _why_ I got demoted?”

Pidge stared at him, and then she realized exactly what she’d said. “Oh, quiznak.”

“ _Quiznak_ is right,” Keith hissed. He leaned towards her, almost getting in her face, and said, “Pidge, what is _wrong_ with you?”

“I just wanted to know—”

“That’s your problem sometimes, isn’t it?” He threw his hands into the air irritably. “You just _want to know_ ! You don’t care what happens, so long as you _know_!”

“Oh, like you’re any different?” Pidge retorted, heat filling her as anger replaced shame. “If it was Shiro—”

“That’s the thing, Pidge,” Keith said. He pulled away from her, arms crossing again. “It _wasn’t_ . You were just _nosy_ for no real reason, and—”

“Keith, when I was looking at your file,” Pidge interrupted, “I realized that I didn’t know as much about you as I thought. I don’t even know where you were born, only that it wasn’t on Daibazaal. And _that_ can be dangerous too, even if you are my friend.” She glared at him, and though it sounded like an excuse – contrived – even to her own ears, something about it rang true, the belief that momentous _secrets_ could tear close friends and teammates apart.

 _What if something like that happened to my family and Shiro?_ she thought. _What if one of them betrayed the rest?_

She hated contemplating that, but a part of her worried. And while Keith reined in his temper, pinching the bridge of his nose, she wondered if a part of him worried that too.

Would they ever know? She hoped they would, one day, and that it would make it easier to find them all.

“Okay, _fine_ ,” Keith said with a heavy sigh. “I can….understand why you would’ve done it, then, but you know you could’ve just asked.”

“Would you have told me?” Pidge scuffed her boots against the ground, contemplating the dirt that rose in a small cloud before settling again.

“Probably…not,” Keith admitted with some regret in his voice.

Pidge glanced up at him. “I’m about to be on-duty,” she said, but before she could step past Keith and head for the cell block, he stopped her with an arm across her path. “What?” She frowned at him.

“About this Lance guy,” Keith said, scratching awkwardly at his ear. “Aren’t you worried he’s manipulating you? You seem pretty…fond of him.”

Pidge narrowed her eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Keith.”

“Really?” Keith’s nose wrinkled. “Because lately, you’ve been acting like it.”

“He’s hiding the book for me,” Pidge said. “And I…think I can tell when he’s lying, or hiding something on his mind.”

His eyebrow quirked up, and tone dripping skepticism, he asked, “How?”

“His facial markings.” Pidge pointed to her cheeks. “They darken noticeably.”

“How did you even figure that out?” Keith wondered, though now he sounded curious rather than skeptical or accusatory.

“I guess, like you say, I spend too much time talking to him.” Pidge wiped her hands on her uniform trousers, conscious of the warmth in her face but hoping she wasn’t obviously blushing. And it was silly, that she _would_ be blushing at all, especially because of _Lance_.

“Look, Pidge, just be careful,” Keith told her. “Even if you think he’s your friend, he’s—"

“Not our enemy,” Pidge cut him off, realization in her tone. “ _He_ isn’t personally our enemy.”

“Fine.” He crossed his arms and swept past her, still frowning in irritation.

“You know I can say the same to you?” she called after him. When Keith didn’t acknowledge her, Pidge turned, rolling her eyes and heading towards the cell block.

It had been long enough since she’d seen Lance – and so much had happened in the intervening time – that she had to resist the urge to go directly to his cell. Instead she forced herself to walk more sedately, at least pretending to scan her surroundings, and tried to organize her thoughts. Her heartbeat quickened even though she controlled her pace, and her rifle felt slippery in her sweat-damp grip.

What would she even _say_?

“Lance,” she hissed as she finally approached his cell. She stopped at his door, standing on her toes to peer through his window. “Are you okay? I know some of the guards like to rough up—” She cut herself off when Lance, still sitting on his bunk, met her eyes without smiling right before averting his gaze. “What happened?” Her heart sank, disappointed.

“Nothing,” Lance said, shrugging, but his cheek markings darkened. He stayed hunched over, elbows on his thighs and hands clasped together.

“I can tell you’re lying,” she admitted.

“How?” He glanced at her, eyes widening.

“Your cheeks.” Pidge pointed to her own.

Lance pinched his lips together, and whether he fought a smile or a scowl Pidge couldn’t tell. “Heh, guess I’m not as subtle as I thought.”

“You’re the most over-the-top person I know,” Pidge retorted, grabbing the edge of his door’s window. “Why’d you punch that guy – Sergeant Aron – anyway?”

“Can’t remember.” Lance scratched his chin, and, as expected, his blue markings turned almost navy. “You really shouldn’t talk to me, Corporal. Someone might think we’re friends.”

“Lance—” Why did her heart squeeze to hear that?

“No, you’re right, I’ll get bored without you to talk to me, but…” Lance leaned back, hands on his bunk behind him. “That’s fine; I’ve got a reputation to maintain among my fellow prisoners.”

Pidge scowled at him. “Oh, is _that_ why you punched a guy – a fellow _Altean prisoner_?”

“I’ll admit, that’s set me back, but—”

“Stop with the lying, Lance.”

“Why don’t you, Pidge?”

That shocked her into stepping away from his door, her eyes widening. “About…about what?”

Lance stepped into view, standing at the window so he could look down at her, but he raised a hand and beckoned her a little closer with a finger. When she refused to move, he sighed and asked, “Do you consider us friends?”

“I’m beginning to _reconsider_ , truth be told.” Pidge crossed her arms, holding her ground.

“Fine,” Lance said, rolling his eyes, “that might be for the best, but before you finish guard duty or whatever, I have a question for you.”

Pidge tapped her foot impatiently. “Then ask.”

“I’d rather no one else hear it.”

Pidge bit her lip and tightened her grip on her rifle. Lance had yet to threaten her, or even make her _feel_ threatened, but something about his demeanor set her on edge. So she compromised by balancing her rifle against the wall opposite his door – something they were warned to _never_ do – before she approached him again.

When they stood as close as they possibly could with a cell door and its small barred window between them, Lance met her eyes. Softly, in a tone that would have made her shiver if not for the question, he asked, “You’re a girl?”

Pidge stiffened and stared at him, lips parting with surprise. It took her too many tics to recover, with him waiting patiently for her to respond, his eyebrows furrowed – perhaps in concern – and mouth turned down into a frown.

“I—” She flapped her jaw uselessly before briskly nodding. “H-how the quiznak did you find out?” She put a hand to her chest – somewhere she’d never been well-endowed – and another to her neck, half-expecting her hair to have grown to its old length.

“It’s, uh…” Lance scratched the back of his neck and averted his eyes. “A friend of yours accidentally let it slip.”

“A fr— _Keith_?”

“It was a Corporal Kogane.” Lance scowled, leaning his side against the door and crossing his arms. “He thought I was manipulating you, and I’ll admit that might’ve been my original intention, but—”

“Why the _quiznak_ was Keith talking to you?” Pidge demanded, grasping the bars in the window and balancing on her toes again.

Lance frowned at her. “You mean it’s not obvious?”

“It was about me?”

“Well, obviously?” Lance sighed and rubbed his face. “Pidge – Corporal – I…we may be enemies, but I can’t think of you as one.”

“I…same for me,” Pidge admitted, biting her lip to fight an involuntary smile.

“Honestly, maybe he’s jealous,” Lance said, smirking and waving a dismissive hand. “I’ve seen you together sometimes in the yard, and he doesn’t seem to have any friends other than you.”

“He’s…been through a lot,” Pidge said. She relaxed, rubbing her arms as if chilled. “He meant well.” But she scowled, anger filling her. “He shouldn’t have talked to you about me.”

“He did warn me _you_ could get discharged or arrested for our _association_.” Lance snorted, but in a quieter voice he confessed, “And he implied you could get even worse than that.” He met her eyes again.

A shiver traveled down Pidge’s spine, and she hoped it wasn’t obvious to Lance. “Discharge wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened to me,” she told him.

“As little as I know about you,” Lance said, rolling his eyes, “that doesn’t surprise me. But you’d…probably get arrested.”

Pidge nodded. “Arrested and interrogated.” She glanced down the hallway, half-expecting Captain Mika or even General Sendak himself to come storming down it, ready to tear her away from Lance’s cell, strip her of her pathetic rank, and clap handcuffs onto her wrists. “Probably charged with giving away Galra military secrets.” She wrinkled her nose, and wasn’t able to resist smirking as she returned her gaze to Lance. “I may only be a corporal, but I bet I know more about Galra military operations than my commanding officer.”

Lance chuckled, but then his eyes widened and he said, “Quiznak, you’re _serious_.”

Pidge smiled. “Dead serious. By the way, can I have my book back? I kind of missed it while you were in solitary.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess i probably should've mentioned at the start of the first chapter that this was partially inspired by the 'pre-canon' of _Saga_ , particularly all the book-related stuff

Lance still refused to tell her why he punched Sergeant Aron, but when she mentioned that she scanned his file – out of curiosity, she quickly reassured him – and learned he’d _ failed _ out of flight school, his posture sagged as he sat back on his bunk.

“Why hide that fact from me?” Pidge wondered. “There seems to be little enough difference between rejection and failure.”

Lance admitted, “Not to me, Pidge.”

Pidge wanted to ask how, but decided to change tactics. “I wanted to be a pilot too,” she told him.

He looked up at her, eyes wide. “Oh yeah, you mentioned that, though it surprised me.”

Pidge crossed her arms and glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lance laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, but you don’t seem like the sort.”

“And what sort is that?”

“Well…” Lance waved a dismissive hand. “The kind that would like flying.”

“Very…specific,” Pidge deadpanned.

“Look, all pilots seem to have a certain  _ attitude _ ,” Lance said, “and you don’t seem to have it, Pidge.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Pidge asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Neither?” Lance shrugged. “It’s just something I noticed. We’re - or  _ they’re _ \- all a little cocky, and reckless, and want to be heroes.”

Pidge smirked. “What makes you think  _ I’m _ not like that, Lance?”

Lance snorted and rested his chin in his palm, leaning forward. “You? Please, Pidge, someone who wants to be a hero doesn’t get her- _ him _ self stuck in a backwater guarding low-ranking prisoners of war.”

Pidge leaned against his door, frowning as she peered at him through the bars. Heart pounding, she said, “Maybe not, but I…applied to flight school once.”

Lance stared at her. “But it didn’t work out?”

Pidge sighed and rested her forehead against the cool metal of the door. “Something happened,” she said. “I had to rescind my application for personal reasons, and I”—she laughed—”failed the fitness test.”

Lance wrinkled his nose. “Now  _ that _ doesn’t surprise me, especially if you almost failed boot camp for  _ regular _ enlistment.”

Pidge straightened and faced him as well as she could with the door between them. “Really,” she said.

“Yeah, you’re kind of…small.”

Pidge raised a fist. “I bet I could still kick your ass.”

Lance chuckled. “Probably,” he said. “I’m an unarmed prisoner, and you’re my Galra overlord.”

Pidge leaned back, surprised at his concession. “Does nothing get to you?”

“What do you mean?”.

“It’s like…you never react to  _ anything _ the way I expect you to.” Pidge paced a few footsteps before returning, waving her arms. “It doesn’t make sense! Why are you so  _ flippant _ ? For quiznak’s sake, you’re a  _ prisoner of war _ !”

“Say it a little louder,” Lance quipped. “There must be someone on Arus who didn’t hear you.”

Pidge rolled her eyes but spoke in a lower voice, “What the quiznak are you playing at? Are you or are you not using me?”

Lance narrowed his eyes at her. “Actually…I tried to.”

“ _ Tried _ to?” Pidge blinked at him, stunned that he’d admit it, but…hurt and, absurdly,  _ betrayed _ , heart sinking low into her stomach.

Lance stretched his arms over his head, groaning, and explained, “I thought I could befriend a guard. My company kind of nominated me for that duty when we got captured.” He smirked, but it faltered quickly. “Didn’t expect to actually _ like _ the guard that took the bait.”

“Bait,” Pidge echoed hollowly. Her gaze drifted down to her feet, but she jerked her head back once she processed all his words. “Why do you… _ like _ me then?”

“You kind of remind me of my best friend.” Lance laughed and rubbed the side of his nose. “He’s smart too.”

Pidge frowned, unsure why that disappointed her. “That’s… _ all _ we have in common?”

“You’re not afraid to tell me what you think,” he added, snapping his fingers at her.

“I’m not sure it counts if we’re not friends.”

“Aren’t we though?” Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “Like I said, at this point, I’d call you one.”

Pidge rested a hand on her heart, repressing the smile that threatened to push at her cheeks. “I…against the odds, I’d call you one too.”

Lance smiled. “Great,” he said, “so does that mean you’ll tell me more about you? Because you’re still a mystery compared to your fellow guards.”

Pidge snorted but couldn’t help laughing. “Only if you start,” she said, “because as you so aptly reminded me,  _ I’m _ the Galra overlord.”

Lance rolled his eyes but agreed, “Fine. What do you want to know first?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you _ failed _ out of flight school?”

He immediately looked down, frowning. “Seriously, Pidge? Can’t you start with something a little easier like  _ why has no one paid my ransom yet _ ?”

“You can answer that too while you’re at it,” Pidge told him.

Lance sighed, pinching his eyes closed and crossing his arms. “Easy,” he grumbled. “My family can’t afford it, so until they find the funds, I’m stuck here.” He glanced at her. “Most of my company was poor men stuck in the military because they couldn’t find better jobs.” He leaned back and rested his head against the wall. “And the reason I said what I did about flight school…”

“Lance?” Pidge prompted when he trailed off.

He rubbed his face. “I was supposed to make it,” he explained, “and after I got kicked out I thought it was better not to have gotten my family’s hopes up.” He scowled. “That’s really all.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Nothing.” Lance shrugged. “It’s just something I tell everyone who asks now.” Before Pidge could respond to that, he shot her another look and said, “Your turn, Pidge. Why did you rescind your application from flight school?”

Pidge frowned, her breath a little shorter though she should’ve expected that particular question. “I…my father and brother disappeared on a secret mission for the Empire.”

“And then?”

“And then I lashed out,” she said. “I reread my father’s book and learned more about why he’s antiwar.” She glared at Lance, whose eyes widened when hers fell on him. “You tell no one, not even any other Alteans.”

Lance rested a hand on his chest as he held her gaze. “I solemnly swear it, Pidge.”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

Lance smirked. “Don’t I? It might save our lives one day.”

Pidge bit her lip, hoping he didn’t realize how much it pleased her to be in this - trapped - together.

She almost dreaded the day it would come to an end.

* * *

The more time passed, the antsier about the situation Keith grew. He’d always been restless, but since learning of Shiro’s survival from Pidge, he became even more volatile.

A fellow guard goaded Keith into a fight, and Pidge only heard of it after the fact. She hadn’t seen him in quintants, though she knew they were meant to have worked the same surveillance shift during that time, so she asked Captain Mika about him.

“Finally taking notice of your allies, Corporal?” Captain Mika mocked her.

Pidge tried not to read anything into his statement, though a bead of sweat slid down the back of her neck. “I was just wondering, Captain,” she said carefully, “because Keith didn’t show up to our shared shift.”

Captain Mika regarded her through narrowed eyes, then he said, “He hit Sergeant Norvik.”

Pidge gaped at him. “What?”

“He hit Sergeant Norvik hard enough to break his jaw.” Captain Mika sighed. “He’s lucky he only earned himself a movement in a holding cell. I recommended to the warden he be dishonorably discharged, but the warden’s being more lenient about this than he deserves.”

Pidge bit her lip and stayed silent, though her mind buzzed, wondering why Keith would hit a guard of higher rank - or what the sergeant said to goad him.

It was unlike Keith to act out without reason, but she doubted he would’ve been given a chance to explain himself.

First Lance landed himself in solitary for reasons he wouldn’t divulge, and now she had to deal with Keith…

“How long does he still have left in holding?” Pidge asked her commanding officer.

Captain Mika frowned at her. “Do  _ not _ ,” he warned.

“Do not what?” She blinked innocently up at him.

“Haven’t you earned yourself enough demerits without adding breaking into a holding cell to your list of infractions?”

Pidge’s fist, frozen over her heart in a salute, clenched even tighter, claws digging into her fleshy palm. “I just wanted to know how much longer I had to wait till I can see him again,” she lied.

Captain Mika’s suspicious gaze lingered on her face for another few tics, until he rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Just do your duty while you wait, Corporal, before you join him or  _ worse _ .”

Pidge swallowed as he walked away from her, lowering her hand back to her side and forcing herself to relax once he turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Then she retreated from the command offices and out to the yard, sticking towards the wall around the prison compound. Her eyes darted around as she crept towards the holding cells, heart pounding and palms sweating.

Warning or not, she had to talk to Keith  _ now _ .

Pidge walked through the hall of mostly empty cells confidently, as if she belonged there, chin up and rifle in her hands. She paused in front of the one occupied cell and turned to see Keith lying down on the cot with his head pillowed on his hands.

“You look comfortable,” Pidge observed.

Keith barely reacted to her presence beyond the twitch of an ear.

Pidge sighed, crossing her arms. So he was still angry with her, but she had reason to be angry with  _ him _ now too.

“You talked to Lance,” she said.

“Apparently you did again too,” Keith grumbled.

Pidge scowled at him. “I already told you, it’s  _ none  _ of your business—”

“Honestly, Pidge, it’s  _ careless _ .” Keith sat up but still didn’t look at her even as he rested his feet on the floor, poised to stand. “You always tell me that  _ I _ need to be  _ patient _ and  _ cautious _ , but when _ you _ do something reckless, it’s fine?”

“ _ I’m _ not the one getting into fist fights with someone of a higher rank!” Pidge retorted. “What the quiznak were you thinking?”

Keith’s shoulders stiffened, arms crossed and gaze fixed on the furthest corner of his cell. “I wasn’t.”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” Pidge said. “You don’t  _ think _ .”

“And  _ your _ problem is you don’t think things  _ through _ ,” he snapped, turning his glare onto her.

Pidge flinched, his words hitting her in a way that nothing else had. But he wasn’t done.

“You’ve done an  _ awful _ job of hiding some things, Pidge,” Keith told her, pitching his voice into a furious whisper. “Maybe they don’t know who your parents are, but you keep flaunting that book—”

“The more people that read it the  _ better _ ,” Pidge insisted.

“—and you and that prisoner aren’t subtle at all.”

Her grip on her rifle tightened. “What did Sergeant Norvik do to make you want to hit him?”

“He called me a half-breed.”

Pidge frowned, surprised. “You’ve never let that bother you before.”

“And I still don’t,” Keith said, shrugging. “That’s not why I hit him.”

She glanced down the hall when he fell silent, wondering if he’d heard someone approaching, but after ascertaining that they were still alone, she prompted, “Keith?”

“He’s a sergeant,” he explained while rubbing his face. “He has some pull with the officers and the warden, so he started asking me questions about…you.”

Her heart pounded as she recalled General Sendak’s visit. “But it wasn’t a formal interrogation?”

Keith snorted. “If it was, he might’ve been less insulting,” he said, though his tone was doubtful.

“Then…?”

“You should stop talking to Corporal Yolen,” Keith suggested. “He and Sergeant Norvik are friends, and apparently Yolen’s been blabbing to the sergeant about your book.”

“What about it?” Pidge pressed. “Like I said—”

“Maybe Yolen isn’t as much of an idiot as we thought,” Keith said with a sigh. “Either that, or Sergeant Norvik realized that the book is banned, because he asked me if  _ I’d _ read it too.”

Pidge paced outside his door. “ _ That’s _ why you hit him?” she said, incredulous.

“Of course not,” Keith said. “He wanted to know where you got it and who gave it to  _ you  _ next.”

“Because punching him puts him off the scent,” Pidge grumbled, rolling her eyes.

“I’m trying to  _ tell _ you what happened, Pidge,” Keith hissed.

“Fine, please  _ continue _ .”

“I pretended I didn’t know,” Keith said, “but he didn’t believe me.”

“I’m not surprised,” Pidge admitted. “You’re not a very good liar.”

Keith ignored her and plowed on, “Then he asked me outright if you’re a spy for Altea.”

Pidge gaped at him, taking in his matter-of-fact tone and flat expression, while dread curled in her stomach. Her rifle nearly slipped through her sweaty hands, and she managed to stutter, “W-what? Th-that makes no  _ sense _ ! Why would a spy for Altea be stationed as a guard on  _ Arus _ ? Th-there’s no sensitive military secrets here!”

Keith narrowed his eyes at her. “You made yourself suspicious by being friendly with an Altean, Pidge.”

“Well, like you said,” she gritted out desperately, “wouldn’t I have been more subtle if I  _ was _ a spy?”

“They may not see it like that,” Keith pointed out. “ _ And _ you’re brandishing a book by an Altean author for everyone to see, so at the very least you make yourself look sympathetic to the Altean cause.”

Pidge rubbed her face. “I may not be the most dedicated soldier, and I may not like our…methods or motives, but I’m hardly a  _ traitor _ .”

“I know you’re not, Pidge,” Keith said with a surprising and fleeting smile, “but your loyalty is to your family, and if you’re not careful they’ll find  _ that _ out too.”

“Why? It sounds like Sergeant Norvik suspects me of the wrong crime.”

“They’ll look into your past, or into Pidge Gunderson’s,” Keith pointed out. “They may look more into  _ mine _ .”

Pidge sighed, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the holding cell door. “Quiznak, I’ve made a mess of things.” Then she wondered, “When did  _ you _ get so astute?”

“Maybe I’ve always been like this,” Keith quipped. “Maybe you haven’t been paying attention.”

Pidge peered in at him, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, really?”

Keith deflated and said, “I think I’m starting to take Shiro’s advice to heart.”

“Finally, except…” Pidge flashed him a smirk and stated, “You still haven’t said why you punched him.”

To her delight, Keith returned her smile and said, “He commented that of course Altea’s sly enough to employ a degenerate runt as a spy.”

Pidge grinned. It seemed she had a better friend in Keith than she deserved.

_ Neither of us wants to be here, _ she thought.  _ Both of us have things we’d rather be doing. _

But he was wrong about Lance. She would just have to tread cautiously from then on.

* * *

The same quintant that Keith was released from the holding cells and allowed to return to duty, Pidge stood guard over a small group of prisoners given the mundane task of scrubbing dirt from the paving stones in the courtyard.

Among them was Lance and Sergeant Aron, who, Pidge noticed, gave each other as wide a berth as possible without straying too far from the rest of the group.

Pidge bit her lip and glanced towards Lance, but when the fur on the back of her neck stood on end, she turned to see Sergeant Aron glaring at her. She tightened her grip on her rifle and said, “Get back to work, Sergeant.”

“I outrank you in my army, Galra scum,” Aron grumbled.

Pidge ignored the insult, let it wash over her like she’d learned to pretend she didn’t hear the jeering of her classmates if she dared to show more intelligence than they could. “I addressed you as ‘Sergeant’, didn’t I?” she retorted instead.

Sergeant Aron dragged his sudsy brush over concrete. “Tell me, Galra,” he sneered, “what did the good corporal promise you in exchange for his escape?”

Pidge turned her back to him, which, unfortunately, brought Lance back into view right at the tic he looked up from his own task.

His gaze slid straight past Pidge and landed on Sergeant Aron, eyes narrowing.

Corporal Yolen, on duty along with her, sensed the hesitation in Lance’s cleaning and smacked his shoulder with the butt of his rifle. “Back to work!” he barked.

Lance scowled, rubbing his shoulder before resuming his scrubbing. Otherwise he didn’t lash out.

Anger curled hotly in her stomach, but she forced herself to loosen her grip on her rifle, to pretend that she wasn’t needlessly offended by the rough treatment of a prisoner.

“You are small for a Galra soldier,” Sergeant Aron observed, disrupting Pidge’s angry thoughts. “Did Lance maybe promise to take you somewhere your size wouldn’t be such a disadvantage in your career?”

She turned her head just enough that she could see him from the corner of her eye.

“In that case,” Sergeant Aron said with a mocking sigh, “he must’ve forgotten to mention that there are other, more  _ obvious _ bars in a career for you in the Altean military.”

“Quiet!” Pidge snapped before she could stop herself, but at the sight of a smirk curling his lips she realized she’d given him exactly what he wanted.

Her face heated with embarrassment, and she fled as calmly as she could. Heart pounding, she approached Corporal Yolen and said, “Switch with me.”

Yolen frowned at her. “Why?”

“ _ Those _ prisoners are boring,” she lied, nodding towards Sergeant Aron and the prisoners closest to him. “I was hoping for a little more…action here.” Her eyes flicked to Lance, hoping Corporal Yolen would take her meaning - or else would be dumb enough not to question her.

Yolen balanced his rifle on his shoulder and crossed his arms over it. “I’m fine here, Corporal Gunderson. Go ask one of the others.” He angled his head towards another couple guards hovering around the group.

“Are you sure?” Pidge pressed. She pointed towards Sergeant Aron and added, “Those prisoners are higher rank, so more prestige for you to look after them.”

He scowled, and Pidge strained her memory to recall when she’d  _ offended _ him so thoroughly. “I don’t think that matters, Gunderson.”

Pidge pressed her lips together, growing impatient and  _ annoyed _ . “Listen—”

“Don’t worry about me, Corporal Gunderson,” Lance interrupted. “Next time  _ this _ one makes the mistake of hitting me, I’ll show him my sharpshooting skills.”

Pidge’s eyes widened, heartbeat spiking in alarm at his bold words, but before Corporal Yolen could react, she grabbed Lance’s elbow and tugged him to his feet. “I think he needs another stint in solitary for daring to threaten a guard.” She met Yolen’s eyes, hoping he’d agree with her.

To her relief, he nodded after only a brief hesitation. “I’ll come with you.”

“No!” Pidge said, flinching when she realized she’d denied Yolen’s suggestion too quickly. “I mean, he’ll be fine with me. I’m armed, and he’s got his hands bound. Besides, you wouldn’t want to deprive the rest of  _ two _ guards, right?” She took the cuffs hanging from her belt and smacked them over Lance’s wrists, dutifully proffered to her behind his back.

“Ouch,” Lance muttered.

“Shut up,” Pidge grumbled, nudging him with her rifle pressed into his back and guiding him away from the rest of the group before Corporal Yolen could argue.

“Are you actually taking me to solitary?” Lance asked once they were out of earshot of the others. “Because I  _ really _ don’t want to go back there.”

Pidge bit her lip, thinking fast. “I think…I have to.”

“Pidge—”

“Only for a little while!” she reassured him. She took his arm and steered him towards the right section of the prison. “I…have plan. It’s risky, and there are a few variables that can go wrong, and you might like it about as much as you’d like solitary, but—”

“Breathe,” Lance interrupted, flashing her a smile and a sideways glance. “What’s your plan?”

* * *

Pidge found Keith sitting alone in the mess hall, absentmindedly doodling on a scrap of paper while his meal sat abandoned by his elbow. He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, raising an eyebrow in question at her.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on duty?” he asked.

“About that…” Pidge wiped her palms on her uniform trousers. “I need your help with something.”

After she explained her plan, Keith immediately said, “No.”

Pidge perched on the bench beside him and, lowering her voice, said, “Keith, I need to talk to him. I think—I think we should help him escape.”

“No.”

“But—”

“First of all, Pidge,” Keith said, “why  _ now _ ? And second of all, why  _ him _ ?”

“Not  _ now _ ,” Pidge said, “but soon, and  _ we _ might need to go with him when he does.”

“ _ Why _ ?” Keith demanded, turning his whole body towards her and glaring. “And if you help  _ him _ escape, why not help everyone else?”

Pidge’s heart jumped at the question, something like shame filling her belly. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Right,” Keith muttered, rolling his eyes. “You just want to free the one prisoner you like and leave the rest to rot.”

“That’s not why at all,” Pidge retorted. “And if you  _ won’t _ help me with this, then I’ll do it myself.” She stood and stormed away, and couldn’t help her disappointment when he didn’t call her back.

This task would be easy, she told herself; for now, she just wanted to  _ talk _ to Lance. She didn’t  _ need _ Keith’s help for this, since all it required of her was to sneak into the control room and tamper with the surveillance cameras in solitary confinement. Tailoring the video feed was child’s play compared to what she got away with while investigating her father’s and brother’s disappearances!

Within a dobosh of entering the control room she accessed the panel she needed with barely a glance shot her way from any of the guards on-duty there. Despite the pounding of her heart, her hands were steady as she keyed in all the right passwords - for once grateful that Arus was so neglected by the Empire that the technology lagged behind by  _ decaphoebs _ \- and found all the files she needed.

Once done, Pidge wiped all evidence that she’d altered anything from the hard drives and left as calmly as she’d come. She went back down to the solitary block, cautiously pushing the door open after unlocking it in case another guard had reason to be there.

But the hall was empty, and Pidge made her way to the cell she’d stowed Lance in and knocked on the door.

“Pidge?” he called.

She unlocked the door and stepped in, and after pushing it shut behind her, she turned to face Lance.

He shocked her by hugging her, arms wrapped securely around her waist and pulling her against him.

Pidge’s eyes widened as warmth flooded her whole body. Absurdly heat also pricked at the corners of her eyes, and while she returned Lance’s embrace with one arm she reached up with her other hand to wipe the tears away before they could escape.

She’d lost track of how long it had been since anyone hugged her.

After too long, or not long enough, Lance pulled away, his arms falling back to his sides while he looked anywhere in the tiny cell but at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just worried you wouldn’t come back.”

“You don’t like it here.”

“That’s an understatement,” Lance said with a wry chuckle. He met her eyes, a slight flush in his cheeks, and added, “I’m  _ very _ happy to see you, but…why go to this trouble? If you wanted to talk to me so badly—”

“It’s not that easy anymore,” Pidge told him.

“What changed?”

Pidge sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor. She patted the space next to her, and when Lance joined her, she said, “Tell me about Altea.”

Lance raised an eyebrow at her. “What does that have to do with what  _ changed _ ?”

“Nothing,” she admitted, “but there are a few things I need to explain to you. I just want you to talk first.”

“Uh, all right,” Lance said, sounding confused. “Well, I’ve actually never been to Altea.”

Pidge stared at him. “What?”

“I was born on a colony in the same system,” he said, shrugging. “My parents moved there right after they got married, mostly so any children they had could escape conscription.” He folded his arms and rested them on his knees. “And for the most part, it worked.”

“But…”

“I enlisted on my own, Pidge,” Lance said. “I’m here because I  _ wanted _ to be, and because I thought I could be a hero and help vanquish the Galra and end the war, and then my family would be proud of me because I finally found  _ something _ I could be good at.”

Pidge blinked at him, shocked at the torrent of words, shocked…because  _ this _ was the most honest she’d ever heard him. “I-I’m sure they’re prouder of you than you think, Lance,” she said, though the statement sounded lame to her own ears.

He snorted. “Right,” he said. “What about your family, Pidge?” He smirked. “How does your antiwar father feel about you becoming a soldier?”

Pidge mirrored his position with a sigh, taking comfort in his shoulder pressed against hers. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I wish I could ask him though.”

“He…he’s missing, you said? Not dead?”

“He’s not,” Pidge said, scowling. “They tried to tell me that he is, but he’s  _ not _ .”

“What happened?”

“The Empire tried to cover up his and my brother’s disappearance,” she explained, her tone clipped and matter-of-fact despite the sinking of her heart. “They tried to claim they were dead, but I found out something else.”

“What?” Lance said, voice lowering.

“I-I think… _ they _ were responsible for it.” Fresh anger - the kind that never really faded - rose within her, and she curled her fingers into fists. “They tried to kill them, but I have reason to think they  _ failed _ .”

“Why did they try to kill them?” Lance wondered.

“I don’t know,” Pidge said. “I can’t believe it’s just because they found out that my father’s antiwar, and that he owned a  _ stupid _ banned book.” She turned her head to glance at him. “I  _ don’t _ want to be here. I’m so off track from where I want to be, and from where I  _ need _ to be too.” She swallowed around a lump in her throat, pressing her fingers to her eyes when fresh tears threatened to spill out.

Lance wrapped an arm around her shoulders when the first sob escaped, pulling her close to him while she trembled. She rested her forehead against his shoulder, suffering the pit in her stomach and the heaviness in her heart, and her fingers found purchase in his clothes.

Lance stroked her hair, his nails just barely brushing against her scalp, and asked, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we could just escape? I don’t even care if we get stranded in the wilderness.”

Pidge bit her lip and, in a shaky voice, wondered, “Don’t you want to go back home?”

“Well, of course, Pidge,” he said, and she could imagine him rolling his eyes. “But that…I want to be out of here sooner than I want to be home.”

Pidge nodded and confessed, “Me too, but…”  _ If we go together, what happens to me when you can finally go home? _

“But?” Lance prompted, poking her side.

“If I desert,” she said grudgingly, “I’ll lose all the resources I need to find my family.”

“But you’ll find them again,” he said. “I-I’ll help you find them, when we escape to Altean territory.”

Pidge pinched her eyes shut, and despite the warmth that fills her chest at his words, it wasn’t what she wanted - what she  _ needed _ \- to hear.

“There’s nothing for me in Altea as long as it’s at war with the Empire,” Pidge said. “Who other than you would help me anyway? If every other Altean’s attitude is like Sergeant Aron’s—”

“That guy’s a jerk,” Lance cut her off. “Don’t listen to whatever he said to you, Pidge.”

She stiffened and pulled away from him to meet his eyes. “Why do you think he said something to me?”

Lance scowled. “I saw him trying to talk to you,” he said. “And—”

“What was your fight over?” If she could get Keith to confess to why _ he _ hit someone…

Lance shrugged. “I told you, I don’t—”

“Oh, that’s quiznaking  _ dung _ ,” Pidge interrupted, prodding his cheek right over one of his blue markings right as it darkened in color. “I can  _ tell  _ you’re lying, Lance. Remember?”

Lance touched a cheek marking, eyes wide. “Why does it matter?”

“Because…it sounds like it has to do with  _ me _ ,” Pidge said. “So what happened between you?”

Lance sighed. “He accused me of exchanging certain… _ favors _ for a chance at escape.” He flushed, embarrassed, and refused to look at Pidge. “He also called you a few nasty names that I’d rather not repeat.” His eyes flicked over to her before drifting away again.

Pidge’s own face grew hot, and she rubbed her arms, trying to distract herself from the implication in Lance’s words. “And you hit him for the insult?”

“Yes,” Lance said, nodding. “Yes, I did.”

Pidge buried her face in her hands and grumbled, “Quiznak, if only Keith could see how  _ similar _ you are.” Then she looked at him and added, “But, Lance, you don’t have to give or promise me anything for escape.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, a hopeful smile on his lips. “Pidge, does that mean—”

A sudden, blaring alarm and flashing red lights interrupted him. Pidge sprang to her feet, Lance right behind her, and ran for the door.

“What does that mean?” he yelled to be heard over the alarm.

Pidge cupped her ears, flinching at the continuing blast of sound, and admitted, “I don’t know! I’ve never heard it used before!” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I’ll go find out.” At the widening of Lance’s eyes, she quickly added, “I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

“I’ll hold you to that!” he said.

Pidge grinned, and slipped out of the solitary cell. She grabbed her rifle on the way as she sprinted away from solitary confinement and into open air, where the alarm faded into background noise.

A flurry of activity in the courtyard greeted her, most of it concentrated at the prison’s entrance as the alarm finally cut off completely.

“False alarm!” a voice spoke over the intercom. “Please escort all prisoners in the yard and on work detail back to their cells. The prison is in full lockdown until further notice.”

Pidge stayed frozen while the other guards on-duty scrambled to obey the warden’s orders, her eyes instead fixed on a dark structure rising beyond the prison’s wall. A  _ familiar _ structure, one that filled her with dread and sent a shiver of fear down her spine.

The arrival of a Druid was never good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm delaying posting of the last chapter (hopefully by only a few days) because i need to do extensive edits, and i'm planning on rewriting at least an entire scene because i had a new Idea that will - hopefully - make it better
> 
> in the meantime?? comments would be nice


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and finally the stunning conclusion!!
> 
> thanks to the Bang mods for hosting the event, and to anonabelle and anaake for their art (see either the first chapter or the work's end notes), and to [hailqiqi](http://hailqiqi.tumblr.com/) for talking me out of rewriting the entire last scene as well as being all-around meticulous ~~because this chapter needed it~~ and amazing

“Why would Central Command send it here?”

“Maybe there’s a secret quintessence deposit on Arus.”

“You idiot, quintessence isn’t harvested the same way as  _ coal _ .”

“But why else would a Druid be here?”

Rumors of the Druid’s purpose at the prison floated through the air. It was the topic falling from everyone’s lips. ts ship laid in wait beyond the walls, like a predator lurking outside the den of its prey and waiting for the moment it ventured out or starved.

Tension had filled Pidge’s limbs at the sight of the ship, putting her on edge, and she swore that her heart had been beating so hard it would soon launch itself from her chest. The events of the last few movements sat at the front of her mind and wouldn’t rest. She couldn’t help wondering if, at any tic, a pounding would sound at the door to her room, and one of the most feared and  _ mysterious _ beings of the Empire would have finally come to arrest  _ Katie Holt _ .

“What do you think is under that hood?”

“A black hole, for sure.”

Pidge tightened her grip on her mug, resisting the urge to either throw it at the gossipers or correct them.  _ How are we still here if there’s a quiznaking  _ black hole _ underneath that hood? _

“Maybe they’re here for one of the Altean prisoners.”

“Really? For some lowly corporal or sergeant?”

“Uh,  _ we’re  _ lowly corporals and sergeants.”

She scuffed her feet against the floor, trying to get rid of some of the anxiety that had made its home inside her, but even pinching the skin at her wrist did little to distract her from her frenetic fears and thoughts and worries.

_ Did something happen to my mother? _

Pidge tapped her claws on the table, nervous energy urging her to do something,  _ anything _ that would put her one step ahead of the Druid and whatever threat they might pose to her or to Keith - or even to Lance.

_ Why would they be here for him? _ But once the idea took root, she couldn’t shake it from her mind, and it just became one more item on a long list of concerns.

“What do Druids even  _ do _ ?”

“Well, according to my grandmother, if you commit a crime they sterilize you so you can’t have any young.”

“Wouldn’t they just kill you then?”

“They _ could _ , but this is the agony of being impotent and unable to continue your lineage.”

Pidge rolled her eyes, glancing down the table and towards the two guards having their inane conversation.

“They’re probably just imperial torturers.”

“You think they hide all their tools under that cloak?”

_ That makes more sense than having a black hole hidden in their hood, _ Pidge thought, then, deciding she’d had enough, stood and left the mess, dumping her barely touched tray on her way out.

She found Keith on-duty in the yard while the prisoners stood around in groups. He lingered near the wall, rifle balanced against his shoulder and gaze fixed on a point somewhere to Pidge’s left.

Her eyes widened when she glanced in that direction to see Lance leaning aimlessly against the wall, examining the vestigial claws that Alteans called fingernails while he sulked alone.

The sight made something in her stomach twist, and she wondered if their odd friendship had ostracized him from his fellow prisoners.

_ Is this my fault too? _

She shook that thought from her head, tearing her gaze from Lance and returning her attention to Keith and the most pressing matter at hand.

“I’m worried about why that Druid is here,” she told him.

Keith frowned at her. “Why?”

“Keith,” Pidge said, taken aback by his nonchalance, “do you know what the Druids do for the Empire?”

“They harvest quintessence, don’t they?” Keith said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m on-duty, Pidge. Can’t this wait?”

“No, it quiznaking  _ can’t _ ,” Pidge said. “And do you know  _ where _ quintessence comes from?”

“It’s…energy, right?”

“It comes from living things, and do you know how they—”

“Pidge,” Keith interrupted with an exasperated sigh, “just assume that I don’t know and get to the point.”

Pidge grabbed his arm, trying to communicate her urgency to him, and said, “They drain the life from living things to make quintessence.” When Keith’s eyes widened in horror, she plowed on. “They’re the Empire’s most notorious torturers,  _ and _ an investigative body that only answers to one higher power.”

“The Emperor?”

Pidge shook her head. “Only the High Priestess can control them, and if a Druid is  _ here _ , then it means  _ she _ has something to do with it.”

Keith gaped at her. “Why would one be  _ here _ then?”

“That’s what we need to figure out. I’m afraid it might be here for you, or for  _ me _ , and we need to be a step ahead of it.”

“Wouldn’t Captain Mika or the warden have summoned us by now?” Keith asked, though from the fear on his face, Pidge could tell it was only a feeble, hopeless excuse.

“I don’t know,” Pidge admitted, “but I don’t want to wait around to find out.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

The ship rising over the prison walls caught her attention again, and she narrowed her eyes at it. “That’s probably too well-protected by more elite personnel,” she mused aloud, “but maybe I can…” Her eyes slid back over to Keith in time to see him staring at her. “I might be able to gain remote access to the ship from the control room, and it…might take a while.” She shifted her feet, prepared for him to refuse when she asked, “Can you cover me?”

His response was immediate. “Yes.”

Pidge blinked, but then a wide smile split her face.

Between Keith’s agreement and his reassuring hand on her shoulder, it was the calmest she’d felt since the Druid’s ship appeared.

* * *

Sneaking into the control room was easy so long as one looked like they belonged there. Justifying getting caught digging through prison files was, however, much harder, especially if those files contained sensitive data about imperial business.

Assuming they were caught at all.

Keith all but thrummed with impatience while he hovered over her, eyes examining anyone that dared draw too close to Pidge while she worked her way through the prison’s systems, searching for a way into the network on the Druid’s ship.

“Keith,” Pidge said, her gaze not lifting from the screen. She bit her lip when another block stopped her in her path, then glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “If you don’t calm down, someone _ else _ will notice.”

“Sorry,” he grumbled.

At last, she located a weak signal coming from the Druid’s ship and settled in to connect.

The work — the most challenging and  _ stimulating _ task she’d had in a long time — absorbed Pidge. It excited her as much as it calmed her, her mind finally occupied with something more  _ important _ than the fear of getting caught.

She exhaled in relief when she wormed her way in undetected, but she warned Keith, “I’ll only have a few doboshes before the system’s defenses find me.”

“Then be quick,” he said. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”

“Newer files,” Pidge said as she sifted through the documents now at her disposal. She discarded most after only a cursory glance, particularly ones without protection specific to them.

She tried searching innocuous keywords like  _ Arus _ and  _ prison _ , but those proved fruitless.

She grew impatient, blood rushing and sweat dripping down her brow. She flipped past imperial secrets that she would’ve loved to get her hands on at any other time, but now—

A file labeled with the same date as her father’s and brother’s failed mission finally caught her sight. She opened it and started scanning the document, her eyes widening the further she read.

Much of the information she already knew, and she gnashed her teeth when it revealed little about her own family, but towards the bottom of the file:

_ Prisoner #117-9875 escaped from Druid Lab #666 in the third quintant of the Spicolian Movement. He stole an escape pod and disabled its tracking system, but a signal pinged from Prison #98 on the only habitable planet in the Arusian system movements later. The warden reported a crash, but Druid verification is necessary. _

_ Prisoner #117-9875 Status: Wanted Alive _

Pidge’s heart pounded in her chest as she turned to her companion. “Keith,” she breathed, hardly daring to believe her next words, “I think I found Shiro.”

“ _ What _ ?” Keith leaned over the screen, eyes widening as he read where she indicated. “How do you know?”

“Earlier in the document it notes that Prisoner #117-9875 was taken with two others,” Pidge explained, “my father and my brother. Do you remember the meteorite?”

“Yes…”

“It was an escape pod all along.” Her tone hardened, and she looked at Keith. “The Druid is here looking for Shiro, and it wants to take him alive.”

“Who’s Shiro?”

Pidge stiffened at the familiar voice, but as Keith turned to face the newcomer she quickly extracted her presence from the Druid’s ship’s systems before standing and following suit.

Corporal Yolen glared down at Keith, an unfriendly glint in his eyes. His rifle sat at rest in his hands, but the way he held it, nearly poised, felt threatening to Pidge.

“That’s none of your business,” Keith retorted, more calmly than Pidge thought possible.

“Then what were you doing nosing into a  _ Druid’s _ business?” Yolen demanded.

“That’s  _ also _ none of your business.”

“Your career already dangles by a thread, Corporal Kogane,” Yolen said, sounding more  _ intelligent _ than she’d ever heard him. “If you were to be found trespassing”—his eyes flicked over to Pidge—”and hacking into Druid business, who knows what would happen?”

His words posed a threat, Pidge realized, and one she needed to talk them around  _ quickly _ . Corporal Yolen knew something about her and Keith now, so if she had information on  _ him _ —

“How’s Sergeant Norvik been?” Pidge wondered, glaring at Yolen. “Is his jaw still hurting?”

“He’s feeling better now, no thanks to Corporal Kogane,” Yolen said.

“Really?” Pidge forced a smirk and feigned a confidence she didn’t feel - pretending she was more like  _ Lance _ . “I’d think kissing someone when you have a healing jaw would be difficult.”

Keith inhaled sharply in surprise, but Pidge kept her eyes on Corporal Yolen, taking in the way  _ his _ jaw dropped.

“You—”

“Didn’t you know, Corporal?” Pidge said. “Fraternization between soldiers of different ranks is illegal.”

“H-how did you know?” Yolen demanded.

“Well, it’s obvious enough that the two of you are  _ friends _ ,” Pidge explained with a shrug, “and it certainly doesn’t hurt my case that you treated Keith and me so much _ colder _ after he broke Sergeant Norvik’s jaw.”

“So you were just  _ guessing _ ?”

“Please,” Pidge scoffed, “I  _ never _ guess. You just could stand to be a bit more discreet about  _ where _ you engage in your  _ affection _ .”

Corporal Yolen gaped at her.

“This wasn’t the first time I stuck my nose in where it didn’t belong,” Pidge admitted. She shot a sideways glance at Keith and offered him a small, apologetic smile.

He nodded at her, acknowledging it.

“St-still...” Yolen stuttered, beginning to recover his few wits and pointing at her, “ _ you’re _ one to talk, Gunderson, especially when what you’re doing with a  _ prisoner _ is worse than fraternizing.”

Pidge’s heart jumped into her throat at the accusation, and she wiped her palms on her uniform trousers. But she kept her composure and said, “Being  _ friendly _ , you mean?” She scowled at him. “Have you ever wondered if there’s something to be gained by  _ not _ fighting each other?”

“Pidge, what—”

“You know what else I know about you, Corporal?” She pressed a finger to Yolen’s chest, and though he towered over her she did not fear him or anything he might think he held over her. “You showed  _ interest _ in a seditious and banned book written by an Altean man.”

“I did  _ not _ ,” Yolen said. “I only wanted to know why  _ you  _ were interested in it.”

“That’s good enough for the warden, I’m sure.” She narrowed her eyes, daring him to disagree with her.

“And what about you and the book, Gunderson? Would you bring yourself down with me just for whatever information you stole from that Druid’s ship?”

Pidge ignored the pounding of her heart and the sweat that made her armor stick to her skin. She smiled sardonically and observed, “You’re smarter than I thought, but still too dumb to get it.”

“Get what?”

“Knowledge is power, Corporal Yolen,” she said, “and if I go down, I can use it to do a lot more damage on my way.”

Pidge met Corporal Yolen’s eyes, daring him to challenge her, to push her more than he already had. “Are you loyal to the Empire?” she asked, voice low.

Corporal Yolen stepped away from her and Keith, though he didn’t loosen his grip on his rifle. “You win this one, Gunderson. I won’t tell anyone so long as you don’t.”

Pidge exhaled, and before she could give him her word, Keith grabbed her wrist and tugged her from the control room.

She didn’t look back.

* * *

“You know, Pidge,” Lance said the next time she passed by his cell while on duty, “even in Altean territories we hear rumors about Druids.”

Pidge paused outside his cell after a quick glance over her shoulder. “Like what sort of rumors?”

Lance shuddered. “They torture information out of people in unimaginable ways. They sterilize prisoners against their will, drain the life out of you before they finally kill you, force you to reveal information that you didn’t even know you knew, and—”

“It’s not here for an Altean prisoner,” Pidge told him.

“Oh, good.” Then he frowned at her, knuckles paling as he gripped the bars of the window in his door. “Then why _ is _ it here?”

Pidge stepped closer and lowered her voice. “It’s looking for an escaped prisoner, and…” She sighed, pinching her eyes closed, and said, “I volunteered to go with the search party.”

“And?”

“The prisoner it’s looking for is…important to Keith. I just feel like something is going to change while we’re looking, but I don’t know what.” She gritted her teeth, frustrated. “And I  _ hate _ not knowing.”

“About what?” Lance said.

“Anything and everything,” Pidge said with an all-encompassing gesture of her hand. “There’s a search party going out looking for the escaped prisoner in a few vargas, and all we’ve been  _ officially _ told is that they’re armed, resilient, and  _ extremely _ dangerous. And I...volunteered for the mission.”

Lance frowned at her when she met his eyes, and her stomach twisted into ashamed knots as he wondered, “What are you saying, Pidge?”

“I-I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.” She shuffled her feet, uncomfortable but, for once, reluctant to lie.

“Will you come back?”

Pidge flinched, the dejection in his voice affecting her more deeply than she thought it could. Cautiously, she reached a hand between two bars, and when he took it in both of his, she promised, “I won’t leave you here alone.”

Lance smiled, something soft but bittersweet, and Pidge reluctantly withdrew her hand to continue her route down the hall and around the cell block.

Until the warden’s voice crackled over the intercom, announcing an early change of shift.

Pidge inhaled and braced herself to report for her next duty.

* * *

The Druid had ordered two search parties be sent out:  one led by it, and a second by Captain Mika. It seemed like half the Galra soldiers stationed at the prison were ordered out with one search party or another, a fact that Pidge overheard several higher ranking guards grumbling about shortly before the first party set out.

_ Now could be— _

Pidge stomped that thought out before it could properly take root. Right now, Keith needed her more than Lance did.

Keith confronted Captain Mika just before Pidge’s party set out.

“What do you  _ mean _ I’m not allowed on the search party?”

“I don’t care for your tone, Corporal,” the captain retorted, though it sounded halfhearted to Pidge’s ears. “And I don’t know why the Druid prohibited you specifically, but I’m sure it has its reasons.”

Keith’s hands clenched at his sides, but when he opened his mouth to respond, Pidge elbowed him. As he turned to her, glaring, she muttered, “The Druid  _ knows _ .”

His angry eyes stayed on her for another few tics before he sighed, slumping. “You’re right.”

“I’ll make sure they don’t mistreat him,” Pidge promised, touching Keith’s elbow in what she hoped was a gesture of reassurance.

Keith’s eyebrows drew together. “You really think it’ll be that easy, Pidge?” he asked. “There’s a  _ Druid _ here waiting for him, and if  _ it _ finds him  _ first _ —”

“A lot can happen between now and then,” Pidge pointed out, desperately.

Keith met her eyes, then nodded. “Then you won’t blame me if I hope that you fail.”

Pidge snorted, amused despite the situation. “Not at all.”

Keith waved at her as the party left through the prison’s towering gates, but the stubborn set to his jaw told Pidge that he wasn’t convinced. She couldn’t bring herself to act surprised when a couple guards at their flank dragged him to Captain Mika only a few vargas into the journey.

Their commanding officer sighed heavily, hands resting on his hips while he appraised Keith. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Corporal?”

Keith looked him in the eye as he said, “No.”

Pidge bit her lip, heart pounding as she waited for the captain to dress him down or  _ worse _ .

“You disobeyed a direct order, Corporal,” Captain Mika told him.

“I know,” Keith said.

“Why do  _ you _ think the Druid ordered you to remain at the prison?” he wondered with a frown.

Keith shuffled his feet but otherwise didn’t falter when he lied, “I don’t know a Druid’s mind, sir, and I honestly don’t want to.”

Pidge covered her face, hiding an involuntary smile while other guards laughed more openly. The Druid’s eerie presence had frayed everyone’s nerves, even when they had no reason to fear it.

Captain Mika rolled his eyes. “I suppose truer words have never been spoken. And all right, if it’s so important that you be on this mission, then you can stay. But do  _ not _ cause trouble or disobey any other orders.” He turned his back to Keith and trailed off in a low grumble, “Damn Druid won’t even tell the  _ warden _ what we’re hunting…”

All they had - officially - was instructions on how to apprehend their target, to subdue it and to call for a shuttle from the prison once it was under control. Then the Druid could retrieve it and spirit it back to whichever hideout it escaped from.

Pidge never allowed her imagination to dwell on what the Druid could - and  _ would _ \- do.

The first night they camped after passing the impact site from the meteorite - from the  _ pod _ that Pidge now knew had carried a prisoner that escaped the Druids. But as she and Keith gazed down into the crater, obvious signs of a crash greeted them, and she wondered how the warden could ever have mistaken the falling object for a meteorite.

_ They put out a false story,  _ Pidge guessed.

She kept a close eye on Keith until they left the impact crater behind, wary that he might try to sneak off and investigate himself and risk Captain Mika’s ire  _ again _ . But apparently the promise of reunion spurred him on, and he stayed with the search party.

They ranged further beyond the prison than Pidge had ever been. She might’ve been more curious - more  _ ecstatic  _ \- about that if not for what might lay at the end of their path hanging over her. And with Lance behind her…

Pidge’s chest ached just thinking about him, but she couldn’t help smiling slightly at the thought of him needling a Galra guard - perhaps even Corporal Yolen - out of boredom.

(Hiding her sex from over fifty other soldiers was also much harder while on the move, but thanks to Keith she managed much better than she would’ve on her own.)

As the search party trekked over grassy plains and through rolling, shrubby hills in the first quintants, Pidge asked Keith, “Is this planet  _ really _ inhabited?”

“There are wild places even on Daibazaal,” Keith said with a shrug.

Pidge sighed, her eyes already tired from the neverending sight of grassy meadows swaying in a nonexistent breeze, unbroken by anything more exciting than bare shrubs and gray boulders. But the night sky, so broad and clear, almost made the trek worthwhile, at least until they reached a dense forest.

She could no longer see the stars, the branches overhead interwoven so tightly that it was impossible to catch a glimpse of anything but a trace of  _ black _ just beyond them.

The sight of the forest itself was strange after existing for so long in a world of gray prison walls, yellow grass, and brown shrubs. The trees towered over them and cast deep shadows perfect for an escapee to hide in, and Pidge might have thought it beautiful if not for the pollen that made her throat itch.

She sneezed, scowling at Keith when he dared laugh at her, then forced herself to relax when she remembered that it was the first genuine show of amusement she’d seen from him since learning of Shiro’s escape.

“What if he didn’t survive the crash?” Pidge asked him the first night, the specter of the impact site hanging over them while they slept in tents nearby.

“A body would’ve been found,” Keith pointed out.

“The pod came down faster than the speed of sound, Keith,” she said. “Would anything have stayed intact?”

“He survived,” Keith insisted, refusing to let go of his fierce hope no matter what she said.

Pidge was uncertain whether she should prepare him for the worst - or dare to hope too.

Perhaps the best thing that could be said about this trek was that the Druid didn’t go with them, occupied as it was with its own search. Instead it - or the warden - communicated with Captain Mika, the commander of the mission, directing him to locate and recapture an “escaped alien prisoner” and to approach it “with extreme caution”.

There was no protocol in place for what would happen if it approached  _ them _ .

A twig cracked somewhere deep in the trees while Pidge was on evening watch. She dismissed the source as a nocturnal animal and instead continued to wander aimlessly between the tents. But then she stood at the edge of camp and looked through the trees, studying the shadows…and one moved.

The fur on the back of her neck stood on end, and she tightened her grip on her rifle. She opened her mouth, about to raise the alarm, when a figure sprinted from the forest and right for her.

Pidge gasped and raised her rifle. She reflexively pulled the trigger, but the laser missed him and burned a hole into a nearby tree instead. She tried to aim a second shot, but the man - pale and furless but for the black and white tufts on his head, and with a livid scar across his face - shoved her  _ hard _ .

Pidge fell backwards with a gasp, the rifle tumbling out of her hands. She raised her arms to protect her face, heart pounding, but the man growled and sprinted past her into the camp.

“You won’t take me back!” he screeched, swinging a glowing violet arm at the next guard he encountered.

The sounds of the fight and blaster fire finally drew everyone else’s attention, and chaos descended on the camp as guards attempted to engage the intruder without killing him.

The clearing echoed with the noise of a small battle, men grunting as they fired weapons, their bodies thudding to the ground as they fell. Captain Mika shouted encouragement and orders as he jumped into the fray. A tent caught fire and sent smoke up into the air, the acrid tang of it making Pidge’s eyes water. And in the midst of a swarm of prison guards stood the escaped prisoner, lashing out at them until they stood around him in a circle, wary of the cybernetic arm that had burned a hand-shaped hole through someone’s armor.

The injured guard lay on the ground, clutching his abdomen and moaning in pain. Pidge slowly got to her feet, staring between him and the intruder, her eyes wide, but before she could reach for her fallen rifle, a shout rang through the tense camp.

“Shiro!”

Keith barged through the crowd of soldiers until he stood next to the escaped prisoner - next to Shiro. He held his own rifle, but rather than aiming it at Shiro, he pointed it firmly at Captain Mika.

“No one touches him!” he said.

“Stand down, Corporal Kogane,” Captain Mika said. “We’re not killing him.”

“You’re not taking him either,” said Keith, glaring at their commanding officer. “He’s suffered enough at your hands.”

Pidge stared at him, then at Shiro - at a man she now recognized if her mind erased the scar from his face and colored his white hair black. She froze at the edge of the crowd, palms damp in her gloves. “Keith…”

“We’re leaving.” Keith rested his hand on Shiro’s shoulder and turned his head towards him. When their eyes met, Shiro’s posture shifted, something like clarity in his gaze, but he didn’t relax his stance.

“You’ll be a deserter if you do,” Captain Mika warned him.

“It would be worth it,” Keith told him. He started backing out of the circle, Shiro beside him.

When another guard raised his rifle, Shiro attacked him, glowing arm lashing out before he could fire.

The guard collapsed with a groan, blaster slipping from his hand while Shiro stood over him almost  _ menacingly _ .

A shiver traveled down Pidge’s spine.

“Arrest them both,” Captain Mika ordered calmly. “What’re you all waiting for?”

The guards swarmed them, but Shiro’s arm flashed again and again, and this time Keith opened fire himself.

A beam hit Captain Mika in the knee, making him hiss.

Between Keith’s protectiveness and Shiro’s tenacity, they escaped back into the dense trees, leaving a trail of injured guards in their wake.

Pidge stood at the edge of the lost battle with her heart pounding, staring after them.  _ Shiro might know something about my family, _ she realized, clenching her hands into fists. She took one step towards where he and Keith disappeared, but before she could take another she remembered her promise to Lance.

Heat pricked at the corners of her eyes as she turned back to camp. She picked up her discarded rifle and approached where Captain Mika’s second-in-command helped him to his feet.

“… _ not _ tell the Druid about this just yet,” he was saying as a medic saw to his injury. “Call for a shuttle to take our injured soldiers back to the prison, but advise the warden to stall for time.” He rubbed his face, looking more rattled than Pidge had ever seen him, and added, “This failure will earn me a demotion at  _ best _ .”

“Sir, we can still go—”

“Did you see that arm, Lieutenant?” Captain Mika cut off his second. “I’ve never seen anything like it, not even from tech concepts and designs that Central Command distributes. Now put that with its  _ tenacity _ …” He rubbed his knee, grimacing. “He doesn’t even need Kogane to protect him.” He chuckled without humor. “I’m of half a mind to desert myself now. Better than facing a Druid.”

Pidge halted a distance away from the small knot of soldiers, the sounds of the camp being repaired fading into background noise as she held her breath, eavesdropping on her commanding officer.

“And since the Druid specifically warned us not to allow Kogane to join the search party, I fear the consequences will be even  _ worse _ .” Captain Mika waved away the lieutenant’s help as he slowly stood without any obvious pain in his demeanor. “Even his friends - what few of them he has - won’t be spared.”

Her eyes widened the longer she listened, the more something like shame - something, even, like  _ understanding _ \- settled into her gut. All their actions - all of Keith’s, and all of  _ hers _ \- had consequences, like ripples spreading over a puddle after stepping in.

Pidge thought she’d understood before, but this time the lesson hit harder and  _ faster _ .

Keith found Shiro, and now others would suffer for it. Pidge would too once the Druid learned of their friendship, and from there all her secrets would tumble out. Her mother would be just as much of a target, and not even Lance would be safe.

Captain Mika never asked for this, and as far as Pidge could tell he wasn’t a patriotic zealot craving battle after battle in this endless war. He was just a man conscripted into the Empire’s military, crawling up the ranks because he knew no other life.

_ I’m sorry, Dad, _ Pidge thought, biting her lip and swallowing around a sudden lump in her throat.  _ I’m sorry it took me this long. _

Pidge retreated, a desperate plan already taking root in her head, as she told herself that her time would come soon.

* * *

Pidge enacted her plan as soon as the search party returned to the prison.

_ Chaos is the key, _ she thought, biting her lip and muttering each step to herself as she stuffed her precious few belongings into a bag.  _ Chaos will keep us safe. _

Pidge paused when her fingers wrapped around her damaged copy of  _ Balmeran Blues _ . She flipped through the pages once, then stuffed it in with everything else.

She stood and shouldered her bag, and when she left her room for the last time, she didn’t care who saw her.

Corporal Yolen stood in the hallway just outside her door, no rifle in hand to signify he was off-duty. His eyes swiveled to the bag on her shoulders as he slowly put the pieces together.

Pidge wasn’t sure why she was so calm facing him. “Are you sure I can’t interest you in reading my book, Yolen?”

“I told you, Gunderson,” he said. “I can’t read Altean.”

Pidge smiled rather sadly at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish things could’ve been different for you. You’re not so bad, even if you are as brainwashed as the rest of them.”

Yolen gaped at her as she turned and left him without a second thought.

All the prisoners were in the yard now, stretching their legs between breakfast and work detail. Crowded as it was with both prisoners and guards - only a few of whom spared her curious, confused, or outright  _ hostile _ glances - it took her a few doboshes to find Lance at the outskirts, sitting with his back against a wall.

When she cast her shadow over him, he looked up from whatever he was tracing with his finger in the loose soil. “Is it time yet?” he wondered.

“Yes.”

His eyes widened, and he stuttered, “I-I was joking.”

Pidge grinned. “Well, I’m not.” Then she frowned, brevity vanishing. “We need to leave  _ now _ , before the Druid comes back angry.” She dropped her bag into Lance’s lap and said, “Can I entrust you with these for the next varga? It might look odd to everyone else, but soon it won’t matter.”

Lance peeked in, then raised an eyebrow. “Are these all your most prized possessions?”

“They are.”

“Then I will guard them with my life, Pidge,” Lance promised with a solemnity she never would’ve associated with him.

Then again, he was probably  _ joking _ .

“Thank you,” she said, then narrowed her eyes. “Get ready, and make sure you’re somewhere I can find you. I don’t want to lose you in all the chaos.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. “What?  _ Chaos _ ?”

Pidge gave him a mocking, two-fingered salute and left without another word, but she smiled when his laughter followed her away. She replayed the sound of it all the way to the prison control room, then she refocused on the task at hand.

“Sir,” she said, snapping into a real salute when she caught sight of Captain Mika.

The warden hadn’t demoted him, despite his failure, but Pidge knew the Druid would have more to say about it.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You have a shift in here, Corporal Gunderson?”

Pidge’s heart pounded; she could  _ not _ be found out. “Yes,” she lied. “I’m reporting for duty early.”

“Why?”

“I missed the dullness of the control room after the excitement from the search,” she said, the words coming to her on instinct. “And right now, the yard is a little too loud and uncontrolled for my taste.”

“Since when does your  _ taste _ matter, Corporal?” Captain Mika demanded. But then he shrugged and said, “As long as you don’t interfere with anyone else’s work, I see no reason that you can’t be here during your next shift.” He took a step, but before he could walk away, Pidge spoke up.

“Captain, sir,” she said, pretending that her next words didn’t put her entire plan at risk.

But she had to say them.

“Yes, Corporal?” Captain Mika returned his attention to her, face blank.

“I’m…sorry for any insubordinate behavior I showed while serving under your command, sir,” Pidge said, burying her pride deep. “It was nothing personal.”

Captain Mika’s lip twitched, and if she didn’t know any better she would’ve suspected he fought a smile. Instead he wondered, “Are you already celebrating my impending demotion, Gunderson?”

Pidge pressed her lips together. “To be honest, Captain, I hope I’ll never see it.” A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face, and she kept her back stiff.

Captain Mika met her eyes, as if seeking some hidden meaning in them - and in her words. But he sighed and said, “I hope you won’t suffer for your friendship with Kogane, Corporal.” He then swept past her and out of the room, leaving Pidge in the company of the guards she’d be sharing the space with.

She exhaled in relief and dropped her arm, another phase of her plan complete, then took a seat at a panel from which she could monitor the prison’s security…and tamper with it.

Pidge always laughed at how out-of-date most of the prison’s systems were, especially when interfacing with its security. Arus was located in a distant and relatively useless sector of the universe, despite being an active war zone, and the prison’s design made Pidge think that the Empire had considered the prisoners themselves the only possible threat.

Getting past the internal security was child’s play.

“Just one more adjustment…”

All at once, every single door in the prison without a manual lock opened:  every cell, every guard room, every storage closet and armory, every building entrance. The prison’s giant gates followed suit, a light flashing on Pidge’s panel to indicate that they were in motion.

Soon prisoners would be jostling each other to get out, running into the plains faster than the guards could corral them back in. They would be overtaking command and seizing the few vessels in the tiny shuttleport, and maybe they would even spread to the Druid’s ship still standing mostly unguarded outside.

Muttered conversation from within the control room pulled Pidge from her musings, and she glanced up to see the rest of the guards on-duty in there frantically trying to reverse what she’d done.

She allowed herself a small smirk as she slowly stood from her seat and escaped.

As expected, the yard was in chaos, prisoners and guards shouting while they wrestled over weapons. She scanned it from her perch, searching for Lance and hoping he’d slipped away from the rioters in time.

She heard him before she saw him, running up the stairs towards her with her bag on his shoulder.

“Pidge!” he yelled over the noise of the crowd.

She grinned and joined him, taking his hands and meeting his eyes. When he stared down at her, she said, “We need to steal a pod from the shuttleport, but—”

“You’ll need a pilot.” Lance raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll need a pilot,” Pidge confirmed with a sharp nod.

Lance smirked, but then it faltered and he said, “Pidge, I flunked out of flight school.”

“I know,” she said, “but I never went at all, and if we’re going to get out of here and pick up Keith—”

“Seriously?”

“—and Shiro, then I need you to try.” She squeezed his hands, hoping he’d understand through the gesture if not from her words.

Lance nodded, and Pidge exhaled in relief. Then she tugged him by the hand down the stairs and dove into the mob.

Pidge’s elbows were a better weapon in this crowd than her rifle, but she fought her way through while holding onto Lance. She handed him her rifle over her shoulder and shouted, “I hope if it comes down to it, you can show me if you really  _ are _ a sharpshooter!”

Lance retorted, “I’d need both hands for that!”

“I’m not letting you go!”

They emerged from the crowd at the entrance to the shuttleport, but when Pidge quickly scanned the space she saw that every vessel was already taken.

Except for a small cargo ship in the very back.

“That one,” Pidge said, dragging Lance towards it.

“A cargo ship?”

“It’s the only choice we have,” she said, “unless you want to fight your way through a bunch of Druid goons for  _ that _ ship.”

“That one’s good,” Lance said quickly.

“You’re not getting this one, Corporals,” someone said from within.

Sergeant Aron jumped out of the cargo ship, pointing a rifle at Pidge, while another prisoner sat at the controls, waiting for him inside.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at him. “Who’s stopping us?” she demanded.

“I am, obviously.” His eyes drifted down to her and Lance’s joined hands, and he commented, “No pretense now, is there?” He smirked at Lance. “I suppose we  _ do _ have your Galra lover to thank for this, because I can’t think of anyone else that would’ve done it.”

Pidge’s face grew hot, and she retorted, “I’m not his—”

Lance squeezed her hand, silencing her, and said, “The four of us can share the shuttle.”

“No, we can’t,” Pidge muttered.

“There are four seats,” Lance pointed out.

“The other two are for Keith and Shiro,” she hissed.

“Pidge—”

“I’m not interested in sharing with anyone Galra,” Sergeant Aron cut her off, “but if you’d like to tag along, Corporal, I’m happy to share.”

Pidge’s heart pounded when Lance didn’t answer immediately, some of her worst fears about him rearing their ugly heads. She didn’t dare look at him in case she saw something in his face she didn’t want to see.

“I’m not leaving without Pidge,” Lance said.

“Then you don’t leave at all,” Sergeant Aron pronounced with a scowl. He stepped up into the pod and offered them an Altean salute. “If I ever have the honor of meeting your family, I won’t soil your memory by telling them you took up with a Galra soldier.”

Lance stiffened but didn’t rise to the bait.

The pod powered up, boosters firing and thrusting it into the air. Pidge watched it take off, her heart sinking into her stomach as the last, most important phase of her plan fell to ruin.

“What now?” she asked Lance.

“Living off the land doesn’t sound too bad,” Lance remarked. “ _ And _ we have a weapon to shoot our food.”

Blaster fire rang out, shooting directly into the pod’s cockpit before it could close its doors or rise too far.

Pidge watched, stunned, as the pilot faltered, the pod drifting back to the ground while a second shot fired. “What—”

Two figures emerged into view, running past Pidge and Lance and towards the pod right as it landed. “We’re taking this,” the shorter said, pulling Sergeant Aron from his seat and throwing him out.

“I’d apologize,” said the taller while he yanked the pilot out, “but the fate of the universe relies on our escape.”

Sergeant Aron staggered back to his feet and threw himself at Keith with a growl, but then Shiro’s cybernetic arm, without its deadly violet glow, caught him around the waist and threw him aside like he weighed less than air.

He glared at the pilot, who scampered away without protest.

“You came back?” Pidge said, gaping at Keith and Shiro before they could step into the pod. Then she pointed at Shiro. “You were trying to  _ avoid  _ prisons.”

Shiro shrugged. “We needed a ship to get off-world.”

“I knew we could count on you, Pidge,” Keith said, grinning at her.

“Does this mean I can’t pilot?” Lance wondered with a glance at her.

Pidge ignored him, instead throwing her arms around Keith. “Quiznak, I hate you.”

Keith wrapped his arms around her and said, “I know. I hate you too.”

“Wait, hold on,” Lance said, and when Pidge pulled away from Keith to raise a questioning eyebrow at him, he pointed at Shiro. “What’s this about the fate of the universe? And is there room in that pod for me and Pidge?”

Shiro looked at him in wide-eyed surprise, but when Pidge and Keith both turned to him, he said, “Get into the pod.” He smiled. “I’ll explain everything on the way.”

“On the way to  _ where _ ?” Lance asked, but he obediently climbed into the pod after Keith and Shiro.

(He didn’t even complain when Keith took the pilot’s chair.)

After briefly instructing Shiro on how to disable the ship’s tracking device, Pidge jumped into the seat beside Lance. When he glanced at her, she rested her hand over his.

“I don’t know where we’re going,” she admitted, grinning at him, “but I don’t care as long as it gets me closer to reuniting with my family.”

The pod powered up and took off, launching through Arus’ atmosphere and leaving the prison far behind. As it escaped the planet’s gravity, Pidge pressed her nose to the viewscreen, gazing at the stars ahead of them and spreading all around, scattered across a black blanket.

At a touch to her shoulder, she turned to see Lance smiling at her. He then dropped her bag into her lap and said, “You think this’ll be a long flight?”

“Probably,” Pidge admitted. “It’s just a small cargo ship.”

Lance grinned. “Good.” He reached into her bag and took out  _ Balmeran Blues _ before pressing it into her hands. Then he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. “I choose having your favorite book read to me as in-flight entertainment.”

Pidge snorted. Warmth spread through her chest and rose to her face when Lance pressed his lips to her temple.

“Thank you, Pidge,” he said, voice low.

His hand dangled just off her shoulder, so she interlaced her fingers with his. “Don’t thank me, Lance,” she said. “Thank this war for the one good thing it did.”

Then Pidge opened her father’s book to the first page and read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i can't believe i wrote a multichapter plance fic without making them kiss either

**Author's Note:**

> And, uh, you can find me [here on tumblr](http://sp4c3-0ddity.tumblr.com/) if you're so inclined.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and if you leave a comment don't forget to compliment anonabelle and anaake too!! ;)
> 
> You can view/reblog anonabelle's art [here](https://anonabelle.tumblr.com/post/173310069890/second-submission-for-the-pidge-big-bang) and anaake's art [here](http://anaake-art.tumblr.com/post/173304250564/why-she-wondered-frowning-he-looked-like)
> 
>  **edit 11/17/18:** [this kind person](https://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com) drew [this adorable fan art](https://hardlynotnever.tumblr.com/post/180023221180/30-days-of-thanks-day-11-fatalistic-daydream-by) for this fic!!


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